WERNER  READINGS   AND  RECITATIONS 
NO.    30 


Elocutionary  studies 
by- 
Mrs.   Anna  T.   Diehl 


UfcflfT  UUBiH  Wi* 


Edgar  S.   Werner  &  company- 
New  York 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/elocutionarystud30rand 


A  ' 


CONTENTS. 

. 

PAGE. 

Preface v 

Hints  for  Study vii 

Alice  Ayres. — Emilia  Aylmer  Blake 14 

Barnyard  Melodies. — Fred  Emerson  Brooks 163 

Bonny  Wee  Hoose,  The.— William  Lyle 142 

Brothers,  The.— Marietta  Holley 11 

Burgomaster's  Death,  The,  adapted  from  "The  Bells  "  (with  direc- 
tions).—Thomas  F.  Wilford 32 

Burning  Ship,  The,  from  "Onnalinda"  (with  analysis). — J.  H.  Mc- 

Naughten 1 

Chant  of  the  Cross-Bearing  Child,  The  —James  Whitcomb  Riley  .  88 

Charlie. — Fanny  Foster  Clark .  64 

Children  of  the  Bonnet  Rouge. — Victor  Hugo 131 

Christmas  Gift,  A.— David  L  Proudfit Ill 

Coal  Digger,  The.— Jessie  F.  O'Donnell 183 

Corpse's  Husband,  The  (with  directions) 30 

Coupon  Bonds.— J.  T.  Trowbridge     147 

Courtships  of  Adolphus  McDuff,  The 25 

Dandelion  and  Clover-Top.— May  Riley  Smith 170 

L  decoration  Day. — Dr.  E.  P.  Thwing 144 

Derby  Day. — Fanny  Foster  Clark ; 168 

Dream  of  Sister  Agnes,  The  (with  analysis) 37 

Easter  in  a  Hospital  Bed. — Nym  Crinkle      57 

Erl-Konig,  The,  in  German  and  in  English,  with  history  of  Schu- 
bert's composition  and  its  first  presentation.    (Arranged  for 

several  readers.)— Mabelle  B.  Biggart 1^9 

Essay  on  Necks. — Laura  M.  Bronson  • 108 

Ethan  Allen  (with  analysis). — George  Lansing  Raymond 48 

Execution  of  Louis  XVI. ,  The,  as  played  by  Ristori 185 

Fate  of  Mackay,  The.— Noah  Little 98 

First  Snow,  The.— Ella  Dietz 103 

Fishing  (with  analysis). — Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox 42 

Five  Little  Chickens 125 

Flag  at  Half  Mast,  The  (with  analysis).— Helen  M.  Cooke 21 

French  Ensign,  The. — Alphonse  Daudet 76 

Fritz.—  Anna  Randall- Diehl 109 


UPB  lawn*  »■» 


iv  CONTENTS. 

General  Grant's  English. — Mark  Twain 

Give  Me  Back  My  Boy.  —Jasper  Garnet 

Gypsy  Flower  Girl,  The  (with  analysis). — Ed.  L.  McDowell  .  . 

Hen-Hussey,  The 

He  Pays  License  on  a  Dog 

How  Pat  Went  Courting 

I  Wonder  What  Maud  Will  Say  ?— Samuel  Minturn  Peck  .   .   . 

"Jefful,  The"  (with  directions). — John  Habberton li! 

Juliet. — Louis  F.  Austin     lick 

Little  Bo-Peep  and  Little  Boy  Blue. — Samuel  Minturn  Peck  .  .   .  .  I 

Mental  Arithmetic  (with  directions) 

Mirandy.— Eva  Wilder  McGlasson 

Mme.  Eef U 

Mr.  Bowser  among  the  Dressmakers gl-  ° 

Mrs.  Magoogin  on  Spring  Bonnets  and  Spring  Poetry. — John  J, 

Jenkins 4 

Mrs.  Piper. — Marian  Douglas 19 

Music  of  Nature,  The.— Mary  Frost  Ormsby 14* 

Out  at  Sea.— J.  S.  Fletcher       19 

Owl  in  Church—  Rosa  Vertner  Jeffrey         . 

Parson's  Cradle,  The. — Anna  Randall-Diehl 17 

Path  of  the  Cyclone.— Meta  E.  B.  Thome 17 

Phantom  Ball,  The. — Rosa  Vertner  Jeffrey 101 

Pin,  A.— Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox 175,, 

Plighted.     A.  D.  1887.— Alice  Williams  Brotherton 129 

Press  Evangel,  The.— John  Boyle  O'Reilly  .  . 61 

Red  Bird,  The.— William  H.  Hayne 70 

Rover  in  Church.— James  Buckham 181 

Sale  of  the  Pig—  Jessie  F.  O'Donnell 177 

Sea-side  Flirtation,  A.— Samuel  Minturn  Peck 16J^ 

Senator's  Grandmother,  The.  —Patience  Stapleton 139 

Soldier's  Return,  The.— Hudson  Tuttle     138 

Spring  Poet,  The— Hal  Berte 97 

Star  of  Democracy,  The  (with  analysis).— Henry  Watterson     ...  79 

Stone  Cutter,  The.— Elizabeth  Akers 136 

They  Don't  Agree 196 

Two  Bells.— Rev.  J.  W.  Sanborn     166 

Two  Valentines  (with  analysis).— May  Riley  Smith -  .  .  91 

Very  Bad  Case,  A  (with  directions).— F.  H.  Stauffer 63 

Voice  of  the  People,  The.— James  G.  Clark 18 

Winnif red,  Walter  and  the  W's  (with  directions)  „ 86 

Women  of  the  War.— Annie  Thomas 71 


HINTS  FOR   STUDY. 


If  you  read  aloud  from  the  book,  make  the  matter  so  familiar  by 
lick  grasp  of  subject  or  profound  study  that  your  eyes  may  not 
tessarily  be  glued  to  the  printed  page  ;  in  other  words,  look  from 
J  ae  book  as  you  read.     Practice  taking  in  a  long  clause  with  one 
troke  of  the  eye,  then  look  from  the  book  while  uttering  the  words. 
8f,    our  tone  is  better  when  the  head  is  erect.     There  is  full  play  of 
He  vocal  organs  and  the  utterance  is  not  cramped.     You  impress 
eople  more  if  you  look  at  them  when  speaking  ;  and  in  return  you 
oteive  aid  and  inspiration  from  your  hearers.     When  the  upturned 
^es  before  you  show  an  appreciation  of  your  effort  to  interest  and 
r^iuse,  they  make  your  task  easy.     The  influence  of  the  reader  or 
sator  upon  his  audience  is  no  less  than  that  of  the  audience  upon 
:n ;  it  must  be  reciprocal. 

*  Choose  your  selection  for  recitation  of  declamation  with  a  view 

.to  its  worth,  the  use  you  wish  to  make  of  it,  and  the  value   it  will 

be  as  a  study.      For  recitation,  select  what   is  picturesque,  dramatic 

<or  characteristic  in  style.     You  must  see,  feel  or  imitate.     The-  best 

reader  photographs  the  image  in  his  own  mind  upon  the  minds  of 

ilhis  hearers.      His  own  soul  is  roused  to  noble  purpose  before  he  can 

jji  rouse  others.     In  proportion  as  he  loves   the  good  and  hates  the 

base,  will  his  listeners  be  moved  in  like  degree. 

Commit  to  memory  the  words  of  the  text.  Learn  the  exact 
language  ;  in  other  words,  be  letter  perfect.  If  you  allow  yourself  to 
commit  in  a  slip-shod,  half-perfect  way,  you  will  fall  into  a  vicious 
'habit  which  it  is  almost  impossible  to  break.  Take  time  to  be 
thorough.  Itjis  only  the  careless  school-boy  who  attempts  to  recite 
a  thing  the  minute  it  seems  to  be  committed  to  memory.  Nine 
times  out  of  ten,  in  such  cases,  the  prompter's  aid  is  required,  and 
i,  sometimes  even  that  is  not  effectual.  The  novice  or  amateur  takes 
a  much  less  time  to  commit  and  practice  a  new  recitation  than  a 


viii  HINTS  FOR  STUDY. 

professional  reader  of  experience  would  require.  It  is  only  when 
the  words  are  absolutely  yours  that  you  can  handle  them  in  expression. 
When  the  memory  has  really  received  what  you  have  entrusted  to 
her  keeping,  she  will  pour  it  forth  at  your  bidding,  and  that  without 
spur  or  cudgel. 

Having  learned  the  words,  resolve  to  make  as  much  of  your  selec- 
tion as  its  worth  will  warrant.  To  simply  call  words,  is  to  read 
without  warmth  or  color.  You  cannot  afford  to  do  anything  poorly. 
You  must  study  carefully  the  exact  meaning  of  the  text  and  then 
decide  how  you  can  best  elucidate  it.  To  do  this  you  must  bring 
out  your  scenes  and  your  characters  graphically,  properly  disposing 
them  upon  right  and  left,  as  you  would  imagine  objects  or  groups  of 
persons  in  position.  Try  to  give  each  character  individuality,  with- 
out anything  approaching  buffoqnry.  '  This  is  done  by  lights  and 
shades  of  tone  of  voice,  by  variations  of  emphasis,  time,  pause  and 
by  characteristic  expression. 

Fanny  Kemble  would  read  a  whole  play  and  give  every  member 
of  the  dramatic  personage  composing  it  a  distinct  personality.  She 
was  not  obliged  to  announce  the  names  of  the  characters  after  their 
introduction  had  been  made.  Macbeth,  Lady  Macbeth,  King 
Duncan,  Banquo  and  Macduff  made  their  entrances  and  exits  each  in 
proper  person.  * 

You  must  understand  how  to  develop  the  plot ;  how  to  reach  the 
climax  and  to  bring  out  the  moral  if  there  be  one,  covert  or  ex- 
pressed. To  be  able  to  do  all  this  well  you  should,  of  course,  hare 
elocutionary  training. 

Cultivate  imagination.  The  reader  is  the  idealist,  par  excellence, 
having  no  material  aid.  The  actor  upon  the  dramatic  or  lyric 
stage  has  the  orchestra,  the  scenery,  the  costumes  and  his  associate  _ 
actors  ;  but  the  reader  creates  his  stage-settings,  conjures  up  his 
people  and  gives  them  vitality.  It  is  only  when  they  are  indelibly 
fixed  in  his  own  mind  that  he  can  transfer  them  to  the  minds  of  his 
hearers. 

When  reciting  you  must  forget  yourself.  You  can  afford  to  set 
your  own  individuality  in  the  background.  There  was  never  a 
good  speaker  who  was  not  willing  to  put  himself  out  of  sight. 


HINTS  FOR  STUDY.  ix 

Repose  of  manner  must  be  attained ;  not  the  repose  of  inaction 
or  inanition,  but  of  self-control.  Stand  properly.  Half  the  battle 
is  gained  when  you  have  the  right  position  upon  the  feet,  and  can 
change  the  equilibrium  at  will.  Never  assume  unmeaning  attitudes, 
gestures,  tones.  Making  a  queer  face,  alone,  cannot  please  an 
intelligent  audience.  Man  is  homogeneous  in  his  expression.  God 
has  so  made  the  human  voice  and  the  human  face  that  they  coin- 
cide, and  no  tone  of  voice  can  be  given  with  an  opposite  or  con- 
tradictory expression  of  face.  Let  the  face  alone,  and  the  soul 
behind  it  will  give  it  the  proper  expression. 

Do  not  trust  to  inspiration  at  the  time  of  delivery.  Have  every- 
thing prepared  in  advance,  so  that  when  the  auspicious  moment 
arrives  you  will  not  once  think  of  the  manner  or  of  what  you  are 
doing.  It  is  said  that  Talma  absolutely  calculated  all  effects, 
leaving  nothing  to  chance,  and  was  so  much  the  master  of  his 
dramatic  efforts  that  he  could  recite  the  scene  between  Augustus 
and  Cinna  while  performing  a  problem  in  arithmetic. 

Be  superior  to  moods.  It  is  absurd  to  say  that  you  cannot 
control  your  moods.  It  is  only  a  weakling  who  is  not  superior  to  a 
rainy  day,  an  autumnal  blast,  the  heat  of  summer  or  the  cold  of 
winter.  Let  not  your  personal  joys  or  griefs  affect  your  artistic 
efforts. 

Accept  criticism  when  offered  in  a  kindly  spirit.  It  may  or  may 
not  be  just,  and  should  be  most  carefully  weighed.  The  writer  has 
received  most  valuable  criticisms  from  what  might  have  been  con- 
sidered ignoble  sources.  When  studying  Bryant's  "  Robert  of 
Lincoln,"  I  submitted  the  bird  trills  to  a  man  who  went  barefooted 
all  summer,  not  because  he  did  not  have  money  to  buy  shoes,  but 
because  he  considered  himself  more  comfortable  without  them.  He 
had  always  lived  in  the  country  and  knew  every  -bird  by  its  notes. 
I  could  not  have  had  a  better  judge,  for  he  was  able  to  tell  me 
instantly  where  my  representation  was  good  and  where  faulty, 
though  he  could  not  have  made  a  tone  of  the  kind  himself. 

I  was  once  trying  to  work  up  an  imitation  of  the  sound  of  the 
wind,  to  be  given  in  Longfellow's  "  Sunrise  at  Sea."  A  young  lady 
was  ignorant  of  my  proximity   to   her,  though   she  was  in  the  range 


x  HINTS  FOR  STUDY. 

of  my  vision  and  heard  my  practice.  When  the  sound  caught  hei 
ear  she  listened,  seemed  surprised  ;  then  she  opened  the  door  anc 
looked  out  upon  the  garden  where  not  a  zephyr  was  stirring.  She 
was  now  completely  puzzled,  but  presently,  changing  her  position, 
she  discovered  my  presence.  "  Was  that  you  ?  "  she  cried,  running 
up  an  octave  of  surprise  on  the  last  word.  "  Why,  I  thought  it  was 
the  wind  ;  the  sun  was  shining  so  brightly  and  the  air  seemed  so 
quiet  that  I  could  not  imagine  how  the  wind  could  be  heard."  Her 
mistake  gave  me  positive  proof  that  I  was  right  in  practice. 

I  once  submitted  the  baby-cry  I  was  trying  to  get,  to  Bridget  in 
the  kitchen,  from  whose  brawny  arms  several  babies  had  one  by  one 
been  taken.  "  It  is  a  little  loike  a  baby,  but  more  loike  a  whine  of 
a  dog,"  was  the  verdict.  The  next  day  she  said :  "  Yer  gettin'  it 
more  loike  a  baby,  mum."  How  proud  I  felt  of  that  compliment 
"  Oh,  I'd  not  know  it  from  the  cryin'  of  my  own  bairn,"  she  said 
later,  and  I  could  scarcely  keep  from  hugging  the  old  creature 
But  when  the  parrot  broke  out  in  imitation  of  the  cry  and  then 
added,  "Shut  up,  you  brat,"  I  was  fairly  beside  myself  with  joy. 

Study  nature  in  the  kitchen,  in  the  parlor,  in  the  street,  on  the 
cars  when  traveling,  everywhere.  The  book  is  always  open  ;  learn 
to  read  its  pages. '  The  bugle  notes  which  I  heard  each  night  from 
the  fort  in  my  own  city,  were  utilized  in  Tennyson's  "  Bugle  Song." 
Bridget,  Phillis  and  Gretchen  have  proved  most  excellent  teachers, 
giving  me  respectively  the  key  to  Irish,  Negro  and  German 
dialects. 

We  hear  of  the  decline  of  interest  in  elocution,  but  there  is  not  a 
word  of  truth  in  it.  There  was  never  much  demand  for  poor  elo- 
cution, and  there  is  certainly  none  now.  There  is  no  place  for 
mediocrity  or  charlatanry ;  but  highest  excellence  was  never  more 
in  demand  than  at  the  present  time. 


THE   BURNING  SHIP. 


J.  H.  McNaughton. 


We  are  very  fortunate  in  being  able  to  secure,  for  publication,  this  stirring 
extract  from  the  new  Indian  romance  in  verse,  "  Onnaliada."  The  best 
papers  of  England  and  Scotland  have  given  the  most  unqualified  praise  to  "  Onna- 
linda,"  and  it  has  been  recited,  in  abridged  iorm,  by  some  of  the  best  readers  of 
America.  Only  an  edition  de  luxe,  costing  $100,  has  been  published  in  this 
country.  We  shall  hail  with  pleasure  the  lower-priced  edition  which  is  promised. 
The  author  kindly  furnished  the  following  explanation  of  the  extract  here  given: 


'  The  incident  is  this  :  The  princess,  Onnalinda,  by  her  fascinating 
beauty,  had  won  from  the  ranks  of  her  enemies  the  chivalrous  Captain 
Eben  Stark.  His  devotion  led  him  frequently  within  the  enemy's 
lines.  One  night,  during  one  of  these  clandestine  wanderings,  his 
comrades  made  the  camp  merry  with  jest  and  joke  over  the  impas- 
sioned captain.  Ronald  Kent  (the  captain's  bosom  friend),  vexed 
with  their  raillery,  and  to  convince  them  that  "  the  loving  are  the 
daring,"  recited  this  ballad ;  but  first  he  gave  them  this  indignant 
rebuke  : 

L700LS  !  for  ye  know  not  what  ye  say. 

1        One  glance  of  his  in  battle-fray 

Will  keener  pierce  by  simple  threats 

Than  all  your  swords  and  bayonets ! 

'  Timid?'  say  tender.      Had  ye  known 

What  I  have  seen,  when  he  alone 

(Of  all  a  shrieking  multitude) 

'Twixt  Innocence  and  Horror  stood, — 

Varlets  !  ye  had  not  jested  so. 

Your  jests  are.  gross, — give  me  your  ears, 

Your  quips,  perchance,  will  end  in  tears ; 

I  tell  no  ballad  coarse  and  stale  ; 

'Tis  new  as  true  my  simple  tale." 
Their  sparkling  mirth  they  ceased  anon, 
And  their  eyes  grew  moist  as  the  tale  went  on : 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 


I. 

'Twas  off  the  coast  of  Scarboro' 

In  sixteen  eighty-three ; 
An  April  night  fell  lowering 

Upon  an  angry  sea. 
And  on  the  heights  above  the  town 
Was  many  a  watcher  gazing  down, 
And  murmuring  with  a  shrug  and  frown: 

"A  woeful  night  'twill  be  !  " 

II. 

The  wind  across  the  surges 

Came  howling  to  the  land; 
In  foaming  wrath  the  breakers 

Came  bounding  on  the  strand; 
When  with  a  voice  from  turret  high 
Sounded  aloud  that  startled  cry  : 
"A  wreck  !   a  wreck!  — Shoremen,  ahoy! 

She's  plunging  for  the  land  !  " 

III. 
Down  from  the  heights  went  skurrying 

The  wreckers  to  the  shore, 
And  women  wild,  who  seaward  smiled 

Hopeful  an  hour  before  ! 
The  ship  —  great  God! — in  flames  her  prow!- 
The  flames  are  bursting  from  her  bow  ! 
She  speeds  full  sail !  — 

Thank  Heaven,  the  gale 

Is  blowing  to  the  shore  ! 

IV. 

Red  are  the  waves  before  her — 
Each  crest  a  flaming  brand — 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

» 
With  tongues  of  wrath  and  fiery  breath 

She  leaps  toward  the  strand  ! 
"Ahoy  !   ahoy  !  ': — the  trumpet  rings — 
See  !   on  the  hidden  reef  she  springs  ! 
To  rock  she  clings, — 

On  rock  she  swings 
Her  larboard  to  the  land. 

A  thousand  shrieks  of  terror 

Arise  from  ship  and  shore  ! 
"  Launch  !  launch  the  boats  !  " — the  trumpet  notes 

Blare  out  above  the  roar. 
But  every  boat,  from  beach  or  deck, 
Like  shells  the  breakers  crush  and  wreck. 
Stranded  she  stood  .   .  . 

In  fire  and  flood  .  .  . 

But  a  hundred  yards  from  shore. 

VI. 
Down  to  the  beach  a  stranger 

Stept  calmly  thro'  the  crowd ; 
He  doffed  his  cloak,  and  up  he  spoke 

With  startling  voice  and  loud  : 
"  Come  on  with  me,  the  bravest  three  !   .  .  ." 

(In  yawl  they  plunged  into  the  sea.) 
"  Give  me  the  rope  !  — 

Cowards  are  we, 

To  cringe  at  watery  shroud  ?  " 

VII. 

Athwart  the  breakers  plunging 

Went  gallant  men  and  yawl ; 
A  rope  they  bore,  the  coil  on  shore 

Trailed  out  with  snaky  crawl. 
Behold  !   they  sink  !  — 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

A  mountain  wave 
Buries  them  deep  in  yawning  grave  ! 
A  shriek  !  a  wail  from  women  pale 
The  bravest  souls  appall. 

VIII. 

Up  !  see  !  — the  dauntless  heroes 

Upon  the  surges  rise  ! 
"  Praise  God  !  "  a  shout  from  ship  and  shore 

Breaks  upward  to  the  skies. 
"  Courage  !  " — peals  out  that  stranger's  shout, — 
He  strikes.the  wreck  .  .  . 

He  leaps  on  deck  .  .  . 
His  rope  ties  fast  to  mizzen  mast, 

And,  "  Down  the  rope  /"  he  cries. 

IX. 

Swift,  one  by  one,  like  pigeons 

From  startled  cote,  they  pour — > 
They  glide  on  rope  through  breakers 

Hand  over  hand  to  shore  .  .  . 
The  flames  !   the  flames  ! 

With  hiss  and  gnash 
Sternward  their  tongues  of  fire  they  flash, 
And  on  the  flames  the  surges  dash 

With  seething  shriek  and  roar ! 

X. 

The  last  man's  o'er  the  taffrail  — 

Alone  the  stranger  .  .  .  No ! 
Horrors  ! — up  from  the  hatchway 

A  woman  from  below  !  — 
Clasping  her  child,  in  terror  wild 
Shrieking : 

"  O  God  !  my  child  »  my  child  !  H 
To  the  stranger's  breast  her  babe  she  prest 

Jn  agony  of  woe. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

XI. 

Tho'  singed  with  fire  that  hero 

To  his  breast  the  babe  he  bound ; 
Then  to  the  sea  leapt  mother  and  he  — 

She  clasping  him  around. 
Now  on  the  rope,  hand  over  hand, 
Thro'  breakers  plunging  for  the  strand  — 
"  Hold  to  the  rope  !   it  burns  !  "  — 
From  land 
Rings  out  the  trumpet-sound. 

XII. 
A  shuddering  cry  uprises 

From  thousands  on  the  lee  — 
The  rope  it  parts,  and,  flaming,  darts 
.  And  hisses  in  the  sea  ! 
"  Hold  to  the  rope  !  " 

Alas  !  a  wave 
O'erwhelms  him  deep — that  hero  brave  ! 
Down,  down,  they  sink  into  that  grave  — 
The  mother,  babe,  and  he. 

XIII. 

There  is  a  sudden  silence 

Hushes  the  land  in  awe, 
As  over  the  sands  a  hundred  hands 

That  willing  rope  they  draw  .  .   . 
"  Praise  God,  the  Lord  !  " 

Bursts  sudden  cry 
From  thousand  voices  raised  on  high  .  .  . 
See  !   on  the  land,  above  the  strand, 
Silent  and  pale  they  lie  ! 

XIV. 
In  fixed  grasp  that  hero 
The  rope  still  firmly  holds  ! 


ELOC UTJONAR Y  STUDIES. 

And  firm  his  teeth  with  clench  of  death 

That  mother's  sleeve  enfolds  ! 
Oh,  fearful  sight !  —  more  rueful  seem 
Those  faces  in  the  lurid  gleam  .  .  . 
But  —  hark  !   he  speaks  ! 

He  stirs  !  he  wakes! 
He  starts  as  from  a  dream  ! 


XV. 

And  the  mother's  lips  are  quivering 

As  if  to  speak  .   .   .   and  hark  ! 
She  calls  her  child  .  .   .  she  gazes  wild 

Toward  the  burning  barque. 
The  stranger  smiled ;   unbound  his  breast  .  .. 
The  babe  lay  smiling  in  its  nest ! 
The  mother  shrieked  in  rapture  wild : 
"My  child!  my  child  !  — 

Thank  God  !    my  child  !  " 

XVI. 
The  multitude  came  surging, 

And  round  that  stranger  prest, — 
With  prayer  and  cry  that  reached  the  sky 

That  hero  brave  they  blest. 
But  not  a  word  the  stranger  spoke  .  .  . 
He  calmly  smiled, — 

He  donned  his  cloak, 
And,  oowing,  vanished  in  the  dark  .  .  . 
''-  Who  was  the  hero?  "...  Eben  Stark  ! 


ANALYSIS    OF   THE    BURNING   SHIP. 

p,       /Town,    Scarboro    (pronounced    Skar'-bro) ; 
(      Country,  England. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  7 

C  The  stranger,  Captain  Eben  Stark  ;   Mother  ; 

,  Child  ;     Watchers  :    Wreckers ;     Women  ; 

Persons  represented  <j       Three    assistants  of  Eben  Stark;   People 

/       upon  the  ship  ;  The  multitude  on  shore. 
Time — Month,  April ;    Year,  1683. 

All  words  of  value  are  made  more  or  less  emphatic.  Imagine 
that  they  constitute  the  answers  to  a  series  of  questions  running 
through  the  entire  composition.  Speak  the  words  as  if  in  reply  to 
these  questions,  and  you  will  fully  express  the  meaning  of  the  text. 

I. 

Where  is  the  scene  of  this  poem  laid  ?     In  "  Scarboro." 

When  ?     "  In  sixteen  eighty-three." 

How  is  the  night  described  ?      As  an  "  April"  night. 

How  did  the  night  fall  ?     "  Lowering." 

Where  ?     Upon  a  "  sea." 

What  kind  of  a  sea  ?     An  "  angry  "  sea. 

Who  was  gazing  down  ?     "  Many  a  watcher." 

Whence  ?     From  "  heights." 

Where  ?     "  Above  the  town." — (A  parenthetic  expression.) 

What  were  the  watchers  doing  beside  gazing  ?     "  Murmuring." 

How  ?     With  "  shrug  and  frown." 

What  did  they  say?     "  A  woeful  night  't  will  be." 

What  kind  of  a  night  ?     "  Woeful." 

i 

11. 

How  did  the  wind  come  ?     "Howling." 

Whence  ?     "  Across  the  surges." 

Where?     "To  the  land." 

How  did  breakers  come  ?     "  Bounding." 

Where?     "On  the  strand." 

How?     "  Foaming." 

Whence  came  voice  ?     "Turret  high." 

What  did  the  voice  do  ?       Sounded  cry. 

What  was  said  ?     "A  wreck  !    A  wreck  !   Shoremen,  ahoy  !  * 

How  is  the  wreck  described  ?     As  "plunging  for  the  land." 

III. 
Who  came  from  the  heights?     "  The  wreckers." 
How  did  they  come  ?      "  Skurrying." 
Where  did  they  go  ?     "  To  the  shore." 


8  ■      ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

Who  else  went  to  the  shore  ?     "  Women." 
How  did  these  women  smile  an  hour  before  ?     "  Hopeful." 
Attention  is  called  to  what  ?     "  The  ship." 
What  is  the  matter  with  her  ?     Her  prow  is  in  flames. 
What  else  ?      "The  flames  are  bursting  from  her  bow." 
How  does  she  go  ?     "  She  speeds  full  sail." 

What  one   thing  is  favorable  ?      "  The   gale  is  blowing  to  the 
shore." 

IV. 

What  are  red  ?     "  The  waves." 
How  are  waves  described  ?     They  are  "red." 
Each  crest  is  like  what  ?     "A  flaming  brand." 
What  does  the  vessel  do  ?     "  She  leaps  toward  the  strand." 
What  does  the  trumpet  ring  ?     The  words  "Ahoy  !  ahoy  !  " 
What  next    is    done  by  the  vessel  ?      She  springs  on  a   hidden 
reef — she  clings  to  a  rock — she  swings  on  the  rock  ! 
How  does  she  lie  ?     "  Her  larboard  to  the  land." 


V. 

What  arise  ?     "  Shrieks  of  terror." 

How  many?      "A  thousand." 

Whence  ?      "  From  ship  and  shore." 

What  do  the  trumpet  notes  blare  out  ?  "  Launch,  launch  the 
boats." 

What  happened  to  every  boat  ?  It  was  crushed  and  wrecked 
by  the  breakers. 

How  ?     "  Like  shells." 

What  was  now  the  situation  of  the  vessel  ?     It  was  stranded. 

How  ?     "  In  fire  and  flood." 

Where  ?     "  But  a  hundred  yards  from  shore." 

VI. 

What  happened    then?     A   stranger    stept  through  the   crowd, 

down  to  the  beach. 

What  did  he  do  ?     "  He  doffed  his  cloak." 

How  did  he  speak  ?     "  With  startling  voice  and  loud." 

What  did  he  say  ?     "  Come  on  with  me  the  bravest  three." 

What  did  they  do  ?     Plunged  into  the  sea  in  a  yawl. 

What  else  did  the  stranger  say  ?    "  Give  me  the  rope."     "  We  are 

cowards  to  cringe  at  watery  shroud." 


EL  0 C UTIONAR  Y  STUDIES.  9 

VII. 

Where  did  the  gallant  men  and  yawl  go  ?     "  Plunging   athwart 
the  breakers." 

What  did  they  carry  ?     "A  rope." 

Where  was  the  coil  ?     "  On  shore." 

How  did  the  rope  trail  out  ?     "  With  snaky  crawl." 

What  happens  to  the  men  ?     "  They  sink." 

What  then  occurs  ?     "A  wave  buries  them." 

How?     ".Deep." 

What  kind  of  a  wave  ?     "A  mountain  wave." 

Buries  them  where  ?     "  In  (a)  grave." 

What  kind  of  a  grave  ?     "  In  yawning  grave." 


VIII. 

What  is  seen  ?     "  The  dauntless  heroes  upon  the  surges  rise." 

What  shout  goes  up  from  ship  and  shore  ?      "  Praise  God." 

What  does  the  stranger  shout  ?     "  Courage." 

What  does  he  do  ?  "  He  strikes  the  wreck — he  leaps  on  deck," 
he  ties  his  rope  to  the  mizzen  mast. 

What  is  his  command  to  the  people  on  the  ship  ?  "  Down  the 
rope." 

IX. 

What  is  done  ?  They  pour  from  the  ship,  they  glide  on  the 
rope  to  the  shore. 

How  ?     "  Hand  over  hand.  " 

Where  do  they  glide  ?     "Through  (the)  breakers." 

How  do  the  flames  flash  ?     "  With  hiss  and  gnash." 

Where  ?     "  Sternward." 

What  dashes  on  the  flames  ?     "  The  surges." 

How  ?     "  With  seething  shriek  and  roar." 

X. 

What  of  the  stranger  ?     He  is  alone  on  the  ship. 

Is  this  true  ?     "  No." 

Who  is  seen  ?     "A  woman." 

Whence  does  she  come  ?     "  Up  from  the  hatchway." 

What  is  she  doing  ?     "  Clasping  her  child  " 

How  ?      "  In  terror  wild." 

What  does  she  shriek  ?     "  O  God  !   my  child  !   my  child  !" 

What  did  she  do  ?     Prest  her  babe  to  the  stranger's  breast. 


i o  ELOC UTIONA R  Y  STUDIES. 

XI. 

What  did  the  hero  do  ?     "  He  bound  the  babe  to  his  breast." 

What  then  followed  ?     The  mother  and  he  leaped  into  the  sea. 

How  was  the  woman  saved  from  drowning  ?  By  "clasping  him 
around." 

How  do  they  go?  "On  the  rope,  hand  over  hand,"  plunging 
through  the  breakers. 

What  happens  to  the  end  of  the  rope  which  is  fastened  to  the 
ship  ?     "  It  burns." 

XII. 

What  is  the  consequence  ?     "  It  parts,  and  darts  and  hisses  in 

the  sea." 

What  do  they  cry  out  from  the  land  ?     "  Hold  to  the  rope." 
What   next   happens  ?     "A  wave  o'erwhelms   that   hero   brave," 

and  the  mother,  babe  and  he  sink  into  the  grave  made  by  it. 

XIII. 

What  is  the  effect  upon  the  people  ?  "A  sudden  silence  hushes 
the  land  in  awe." 

What  is  done  by  a  hundred  hands  ?     They  draw  the  rope. 
What  cry  bursts  out  ?      "  Praise  God,  the  Lord." 
From  whom  ?     A  "  thousand  voices." 
What  is  the  reason  of  this  cry  ? 

"  See  !  on  the  land,  above  the  strand, 
Silent  and  pale  they  lie." 

XIV. 

What  does  the  hero  still  do  ?  "  In  fixed  grasp  (he)  firmly  holds 
the  rope." 

What  else  ?     He  holds  that  mother's  sleeve  with  his  teeth. 

After  a  little  time  passes  what  happens  ?  "  He  speaks  !  he  stirs  ! 
he  wakes  !  he  starts  as  from  a  dream !" 

XV. 

What  is  seen  when  the  mother  recovers  consciousness?  Her 
"lips  are  quivering." 

How  ?     "  As  if  to  speak." 

When  able  to  speak  what  does  she  do  ?     Calls  for  her  child. 

What  else  ?     "  She  gazes  toward  the  burning  barque." 

What  did  the  stranger  do?  He  "smiled"  and  "  unbound  his 
breast." 


ELOCUTIONAR Y  STUDIES.  1 1 

What  was  then  seen  ?     "  The  babe  lay  smiling  in  its  nest." 
What  did  the  mother  shriek  ?     "  My  child !  my   child  !  Thank 
God  \  my  child." 

XVI. 

What  was  then  done  by  the  multitude  ?  They  "  came  surging, 
and  round  that  stranger  prest." 

How  did  they  express  their  approval  of  his  brave  deed  ?  "  They 
blest  (him)  with  prayer  and  cry  that  reached  the  sky." 

Did  the  stranger  answer  ?      "  Not  a  word." 

What  did  he  do  ?  He  smiled  calmly,  donned  his  cloak,  bowed 
and  vanished. 

What  was  the  universal  question  ?     Who  was  the  stranger. 

What  was  the  answer  ?     "  Eben  Stark." 


THE   BROTHERS. 


Marietta  Hollev. 


This  author  is  so  well  known  under  the  pseudonym  of  "  Josiah  Allen's  Wife  " 
that  we  have  almost  grown  to  think  it  her  real  name.  While  her  quaint,  humor- 
ous writings  have  such  a  well-merited  popularity,  her  poetry  is  not  much  known, 
and  the  following  will  be  gladly  welcomed.  In  all  her  writings  beneath  irresistible 
humor  or  profound  pathos  there  is  always  the  undercurrent  of  sound  sense,  the  moral 
or  religious  lesson.  What  parson  could  preach  a  better  sermon  than  is  found  in 
this  poem  ?  The  elder  brother  served  God  in  his  cell  with  vigils,  fastings,  prayers  ; 
the  younger  went  out  into  the  world  and- toiled;  he  fed  the  hungry,  clothed 
the  naked,  and  ministered  to  the  sick  and  dying.  When  the  elder  died  he  had 
the  look  of  one  who  through  much  peril  enters  into  rest,  the  other  as  he  passed 
from  earth  stretched  out  his  hands  and  with  a  smile  as  if  his  dearest  friends  were 
bidding  him  welcome,  cried  "Thy  face  !  thy  face  !  dear  Lord  !  "  The  last  stanza 
is  exquisitely  beautiful. 

HIGH  on  a  rocky  steep  did  once  a  gray  old  castle  stand, 
From  whence  rough-bearded  chieftains  led  their  vassals,  ruled 
the  land. 
For  centuries  had  dwelt  here  sire  and  son,  till  it  befell, 
Last  of  the  ancient  line,  two  brothers  here  alone  did  dwell. 

The  eldest  was  stern-visaged,  but  the  vounger  smooth  and  fair 
Of  countenance  ;   both  zealous  men  who  bent  the  knee  in  prayer 
To  the  one  God,  loved  much,  read  much  His  Holy  Word, 
And  prayed,  above  all  gifts  desired,  that  they  might  see  their  Lord, 


12  EL  O C UTIONAR  Y  STUDIES. 

For  this  the  elder  brother  carved  a  silent  cell  of  stone  ; 
Into  its  empty,  dreary  depths  he  entered,  dwelt  alone, 
And  strove  with  vigils,  fastings,  prayers,  to  purify  his  gaze, 
Striving  if  so  he  might  behold  the  blessed  Master's  face. 

And  from  the  love  of  God  that  falls  on  us  in  bright-lipped  flowers, 
And  from  the  smile  of  God  that  falls  in  sunshine's  golden  showers, 
Thrilling  Earth's  slumbering  heart  so,  where  its  warm  rays  fall, 
That  it  laughs  out  in  beauty  —  turned  he  as  from  tempters  all, 

From  bird-song  running  morn's  sweet-scented  chalice  o'er  with  cheer, 
Childhood's  light  laughter,  dear  love,  lifting  lowliest  souls  to  Heaven 

near ; 
From  tears  and  glad  smiles,  linked  light  and  gloom  of  the  golden 

day, 
He,  counting  them  temptations  all,  austerely  turned  away. 

And  thus  he  lived  alone,  unblest,  and  died,  unblest,  alone, 
Save  for  a  brother  monk  who  held  the  carved  cross  of  stone 
In  the  cold,  rigid  clasp,  the  while  the  dying  eyes  did  wear 
A  look  of  mortal  striving,  mortal  agony  and  prayer  — 

Though  at  the  very  last,  as  the  stiff  fingers  dropped  the  cross, 
A  gleam  as  from  some  distant  city  swept  his  face  across ; 
The  clay  lips  settled  into  calm  — this  did  the  monk  attest  — 
The  look  of  one  who  through  much  peril  enters  into  rest. 

Not  thus  did  he,  the  younger  brother,  seek  the  dear  Lord's  face, 
But  in  Earth's  lowliest  places  did  he  strive  His  steps  to  trace ; 
Wherever  want  and  grief  besought  with  clamorous  complaint, 
There  he  beheld  his  Lord,  naked,  athirst,  and  faint. 

And   when  his  hands   were  wet   with  tears,  wrung  with  a  grateful 

grasp,  ' 
He  lightly  felt  »pon  his  palm  the  elder  brother's  clasp  ; 
And  when  above  the  loathsome  couch  of  woe  and  want  knelt  he, 
A  low  voice  thrilled  his  soul,—"  So  have  ye  done  it  unto  Me." 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  13 

Despised  he  not  the  mystic  ties  of  bloou,  yet  did  he  claim 
The  wider  brotherhood,  with  every  race  and  name ; 
To  his  own  kin  loyal  and  kind  was  he  in  truth,  yet  still 
His  mother  and  his  brethren  were  all  who  did  God's  will. 

All  little  ones  were  dear  to  him,  for  light  from  Paradise 

Seemed  falling  on  him  from  their  pure  and  innocent  eyes  ; 

The  very  flowers  that  fringed  cool  streams  and  gemmed  the  dewy 

sod, 
To  his  rapt  vision  seemed  but  the  visible  smiles  of  God. 

The  deep's  full  heaat  that  throbs  unceasing  'gainst  the  silent  ships, 
The  waves  together  whispering  with  weird,  mysterious  lips — 
To  hear  their  untranslated  hymn,  drew  down  his  anointed  ear, 
And  listening,  lo  !  he  heard  God's  voice,  to  him  was  He  so  near, 

The  happy  hum  of  bees  to  him  made  Summer  silence  sweet, 
Not  lightly  did  he  view  the  very  grass  beneath  his  feet; 
Did  it  not  pave  His  presence  chamber  where  he  walked  a  guest? 
Ah,  slight  the  veil  between,  in  very  truth  his  life  was  blest. 

And  when,  on  a  still  sunset,  passed  he  to  the  Summer  land, 
Those  whom  he  had  befriended,  weeping,  clinging  to  his  hand, 
The  west  gleamed  with  a  sudden  glory,  and  from  out  the  glow 
Trembled  the  semblance  of  a  crown,  and  rested  on  his  brow. 

And  with  wild,  eager  eyes  he  smiled,  and  stretched  his  hands  abroad, 
As  if  his  dearest  friends  were  welcoming  him  to  his  abode. 
Eternal  silence  sealed  that  wond'rous  smile  as  he  cried : 
"Thy  face!   thy  face  !  dear  Lord  !  "     and  saying  this  he  died. 

But  legends  tell  that  on  his  grave  fell  such  a  strange,  pure  light, 
That  wine-red  roses  planted  thereupon  would  spring  up  white, 
Holding  such  mystic  healing  in  their  cool  snow  bloom,  that  lain 
On  aching  brows,  or  most  sorrowful  hearts,  they  would  ease  theit 
pain. 


14  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

ALICE  AYRES. 


Emilia  Avlmkr  Blake. 


WHAT'S  there  beneath,  where  the  flowers  in  a  heap 
Rain  down  like  the  snows  of  May, 
That  a  fellow  like  me  should  turn  and  weep 
As  I  linger  to  go  away  ? 

What  has  happened  ?     Well,  one  dark  night 

Last  week,  I  was  roaming  about 
Through  the  crowded  streets,  when  a  «udden  light 

Roused  me  up  with  a  start  and  a  shout. 

In  the  burning  frame  of  a  window  above, 

Was  set  a  woman's  form, 
And  a  cry,  "  Help  !   Help  !   For  God's  dear  love  !  " 

Rang  out  above  the  storm. 

Quick,  quick,  to  the  rescue,  firemen  brave 

With  shouts  and  galloping  feet ; 
"  They  come,  they  come,  but  too  late  to  save," 

The  cry  rose  up  from  the  street. 

"  Leap,  leap,"  they  cried,  to  the  ashen  face 

Hemmed  round  with  darts  of  flame  ; 
But  she  vanished  three  times  from  that  fearful  place. 

And  three  times  back  she  came. 

Down  through  the  window,  a  broad,  soft  bed 

She  flung  on  the  cruel  stones, 
Then  calmly  bore  forth  in  her  arms  and  led, 

Three  helpless  little  ones. 

One  by  one  on  the  bed  beneath 

She  dropped  the  children  down  ; 
Three  lives  redeemed  from  fiery  death. 

While  she  thought  not  of  her  own. 


ELOCUTIONAR  Y  STUDIES.  i 5 

Then  we  saw  her  totter  through  blinding  smoke 
As  her  strength  with  her  breath  should  fail, 

From  a  sea  of  namelit  faces  broke 
One  agonizing  wail : 

"  For  God's  sake,  save  yourself,"  they  shriek, 

As  they  raise  the  outstretched  bed ; 
Toward  the  tongues  of  fire  that  licked  her  cheek 

The  girl  turned  round  her  head. 

Oh,  God  !•  those  eyes  of  anguish  wild, 

Those  white  lips  of  despair 
Cast  back  on  the  mother  and  youngest  child 

Sunk,  choked  and  senseless  there  ! 

She  could  no  more  —  in  her  frenzy  wrought 

To  a  rash  and  sudden  spring  — 
Headforemost,  in  our  arms  we  caught 

A  crushed  and  speechless  thing  ! 

We  lifted  her  gently  one  and  all  — 

No  sound  of  life,  no  stir, 
While  we  bore  her  to  the  hospital, 

Gave  hope  to  our  hearts  for  her. 

I  hung  like  a  ghost  about  the  place 

Where  silent  in  death  she  lay, 
With  the  happy  smile  on  her  fair  young  face, 

Till  they  knew  she  had  passed  away. 

No  soldier  nor  sailor,  by  land  or  sea 

In  the  bed  of  honor  laid, 
Was  ever  more  great  of  heart  than  she, 

That  simple  serving  maid. 

Ay,  all  she  had  she  gave  ^—  her  life, 
For  the  babes  she  never  bore  ; 


?6  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

What  could  the  mother  and  the  wife 
For  flesh  of  her  flesh  do  more  ? 

The  deed  she  has  done  shall  be  hallowed  yet 
By  a  people's  tears  and  prayers, 

For  the  human  heart  can  never  forget 
Such  a  woman  as  Alice  Ayres. 


HOW   PAT  WENT    COURTING. 

SHE'S  consinted  at  last !  Fur  two  years  I'd  thocht  a  dale  ov 
Nelly  McCusker,  only  I  had  nothin'  ov  an  Irish  boy's  bouldness 
to  up  and  tell  her  that  same.  But  yisterday  sez  I  to  mesilf— Pat 
Murky,  now's  yer  toime,  or  niver.  Nelly  was  in  the  pantry  washin' 
dishes,  an'  sumthin  shouted  :  Ax  her  !  She's  too  busy  to  look  at 
yer,  ony  way.     So  I  starts  on  wid  : 

"  Troth,  Nelly,  it's  a  bad  loife  for  a  boy  to  be  livin'  alone." 

"  Yis,"  sez  she,  wid  nary  a  twinkle,  "  Mike  Ryan,  that's  just  bin 
sent  to  prison,  is  in  a  bad  way  indade.'" 

"  Och,"  sez  I,  "  there's  mony  a  boy  that's  lonely  livin'  rite  wid 
his  friends  an'  naybors.     Sure  an'  I'm  lonesome  mesilf." 

"  How  can  I  b'lave  that,"  sez  she,  "  whin  y've  got  a  fiddul  ?  " 

"  Fidduls,"  sez  I,  "  are  cheerin',  but  I've  got  me  two  eyes  on 
somet,  on  somethin'  cheeriner."  She  forgot  to  ax  me  what  that 
sumthin'  wus,  so  I   trotted  off  by  another  road,  sayin'  : 

"  Faith,  Nelly,  I'm  goin'  back  to  ould  Ireland." 

"  Indade,"  sez  she,  flirtin'  the  dishrag,  "  an'  it's  a  pity  ye  iver 
cum  over." 

"  Yis,"    sez  I,  "  Jane  said  that  same  in  her  last  lether." 

'An'  who's  Jane  ?  "  axt  Nelly,  gettin'  red  loike  the  crabs  on  the 
table  besoid  her. 

"  She  thinks  a  power  o'  me,"  sez  I,  onheedin'. 

"  Shure  an'  that's  quare.     Is  she  young — as  me  ?  " 

"  Yis." 

"  An'  better  lookin'  ?  " 

"  Paple  moight  think  so." 


ELOC UTIONAR  Y  STUDIES.  1 7 

"  An'  is  she  waitin'  fur  ye  ?  " 

"  Yis." 

"  She'll  be  changin'  names,  sure,  I  reckon  ?  " 

"  Yis." 

"  Wat's  her  name,  now  ?  " 

"  Jane — Murky  !  "  cried  I,  wid  delight. 

"  Thin  she's  your  sister  ?  "  sez  Nelly,  cross  ez  her  mistress.  "  Well, 
it  aint  much  matter  seein'  ez  how  I've  got  a  boy  watchin'  fur  me 
over  in  Ballycoran." 

"  Wat's  his  name  ?  "  axt  I,  turnin'  hot  an'  cold  all  at  wunst. 

"  Barney  Flynn,"  sez  she. 

"About  me  size  ?  " 

«  Yis." 

"An'  duz  he  luv  ye  ?  " 

"  Nixt  to  the  Vargin." 

"  Is  he  comin'  over,  sure  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Why  not,  bedad  ?  " 

J<  Och,  Pat,  he's  married  alriddy  !  " 

"  The  spalpeen  !  "  sez  I. 

"  Don't  give  him  hard  names,"  says  she.  "  Barney  Flynn's  me 
stip-bruther  !  "  Then  she  lafit  that  purty  laugh  o'  hern  an'  went  up 
.-lose. 

"  Nelly,"  sez  I. 

"  Wat,  Pat  ?  " 

"  Cud  ye  luv  a  boy  loike  me  ?  " 

"  Troth  an'  I  wouldn't  thry." 

"  Why  not,  darlint  ?  " 

"  Faith,  I  wuz  niver  axt  to." 

"Thin  I'll  ax  ye  now." 

"  Don't  do  it,"  sez  she.  "  I'm  that  full  o'  work  I  couldn't  reply 
for  a  month,"  and  the  dishes  flew'd  ivry  wich  way  ez  she  said  it. 
But  I  sat  down  on  the  stip. 

"  I  kin  wait,"  sez  I. 

"  The  mistress  will  come  an'  foind  yez  here," 

"  I'll  be  plazed  to  mate  her." 


1 8  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

"  I'll  tell  her  ye're  a  robber." 

"  Begorra,  that's  just  what  I  am,  for  I'm  afther  Nelly  McCusker's 
heart !  " 

"  Ye'll  be  arrested." 

"  I  hay  bin  alriddy  an'  yer  blu'  eyes  did  it !  "  sez  I.  "  Cum, 
Nelly,  lock  me  up  in  yer  warm  heart  foriver." 

"  Och,  it's  boulted  an'  I've  lost  the  key." 

"  Thin  I'll  climb  in  at  the  winder."  She  hung  her  curly  hed  fur 
a  minit,  and  whin  she  lookt  up  I  axt  her  to  be  my  woife. 

"  I'll  guv  ye  foive  secinds,"  sez  I.  "  Ef  ye  wull,  just  fotch  me 
the  big  pewter  spoon  ye've  bin  wipin'  ;  ef  you  won't,  thin  put  it 
bnck  in  the  drawer  !  "     She  peeped  at  me  over  the  top  av  it. 

"  D'ye  mane  what  ye  say,  Pat  ?  " 

"  Yis,  darlint,"  sez  I. 

"  Thin  here's  the  spoon."  % 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE   PEOPLE. 


James  G.  Clark. 


The  author  of  this  selection  is  a  poet,  a  musical  composer  and  a  singer.  As  a 
poet  lie  is  noted  for  the  beauty  and  perfection  of  his  rhythm  ;  as  a  composer  for  the 
wonderful  adaptation  of  the  music  to  the  sentiment ;  as  a  ballad  singer  he  has 
rare  talent.  This  remarkable  poem  is  a  protest  of  humanity  against  oppression 
and  injustice.  The  poet-prophet  sees  the  impending  conflict  of  the  age  with 
ancient  wrongs,  and  sounds  the  tocsin  of  the  people  in  no  uncertain  measures.  It 
is  eminently  suited  to  be  given  at  this  time,  when  right  is  so  grandly  rising 
against  might ;  but  it  is  worth  much  as  an  elocutionary  study,  alone,  irrespective 
of  the  popular  sentiment  it  expresses. 

There  should  be,  in  reading,  a  general  drift  of  the  orotund  quality  of  voice  as 
tone-color,  and  of  the  median  stress.  There  is  a  partial  drift  of  the  final  stress. 
The  compound  stress  is  given  to  the  emphatic  words  in  the  first  four  lines  of  the 
fifth  stanza.  If  you  were  to  insert  the  words  which  are  understood  but  not 
expressed,  the  lines  would  read  (Is  it  possible  that)  the  sea  must  plead  in  vain  that 
the  river?  (Ts  it  possible  that)  the  earth  begs  the  rain  clouds?  Give  strong 
denunciation  on  first  four  lines  of  sixth  stanza.     Come  out  grandly  on  the  last. 


SWING  inward,  O  gates  of  the  future, 
Swing  outward  ye  doors  of  the  past, 
For  the  soul  of  the  people  is  moving 
And  rising  from  slumber  at  last  •, 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  19 

The  black  forms  of  night  are  retreating, 

The  white  peaks  have  signaled  the  day, 
And  Freedom  her  long  roll  is  beating, 

And  calling  her  sons  to  the  fray. 

And  woe  to  the  rule  that  has  plundered 

And  trod  down  the  wounded  and  slain, 
While  the  wars  of  the  Old  Time  have  thundered 

And  men  poured  their  life-tide  in  vain  ; 
The  day  of  its  triumph  is  ending, 

The  evening  draws  near  with  its  doom, 
And  the  star  of  its  strength  is  descending 

To  sleep  in  dishonor  and  gloom. 

Swing  inward,  O  gates  !  till  the  morning 

Shall  paint  the  brown  mountains  in  gold, 
Till  the  life  and  the  love  of  the  New  Time 

Shall  conquer  the  hate  of  the  Old. 
Let  the  face  and  the  hand  of  the  Master 

No  longer  be  hidden  from  view, 
Nor  the  lands  He  prepared  for  the  many 

Be  trampled  and  robbed  by  the  few. 

The  soil  tells  the  same  fruitful  story, 

The  seasons  their  bounties  display, 
And  the  flowers  lift  their  faces  in  glory 

To  catch  the  warm  kisses  of  day  ; 
While  our  fellows  are  treated  as  cattle 

That  are  muzzled  when  treading  the  corn, 
And  millions  sink  down  in  life's  battle 

With  a  sigh  for  the  day  they  were  born. 

Must  the  sea  plead  in  vain  that  the  river 

May  return  to  its  mother  for  rest, 
And  the  earth  beg  the  rain  clouds  to  give  her 

Of  dews  they  have  drawn  from  her  breast? 
Lo  !  the  answer  comes  back  in  a  mutter 

From  domes  where  the  quick  lightnings  glow, 


2o  ELOCUTIONAR  Y  STUDIES. 

And  from  heights  where  the  mad  waters  utter 
Their  warning  to  dwellers  below. 

And  woe  to  the  robbers  who  gather 

In  fields  where  they  never  have  sown, 
Who  have  stolen  the  jewels  from  labor 

And  builded  to  Mammon  a  throne  ; 
For  the  snow-king  asleep  by  the  fountains 

Shall  wake  in  the  summer's  hot  breath, 
And  descend  in  his  rage  from  the  mountains 

Bearing  terror,  destruction  and  death. 

And  the  throne  of  their  god  shall  be  crumbled, 

And  the  sceptre  be  swept  from  his  hand, 
And  the  heart  of  the  haughty  be  humbled, 

And  a  servant  be  chief  in  the  land, — 
And  the  Truth  and  the  Power  united 

Shall  rise  from  the  graves  of  the  True, 
And  the  wrongs  of  the  Old  Time  be  righted 

In  the  might  and  the  light  of  the  New. 

For  the  Lord  of  the  harvest  hath  said  it — 

Whose  lips  never  uttered  a  lie, 
And  His  prophets  and  poets  have  reatl  it 

In  symbols  of  earth  and  of  sky, 
That  to  him  who  has  reveled  in  plunder 

Till  the  angel  of  conscience  is  dumb, 
The  shock  of  the  earthquake  and  thunder 

And  tempest  and  torrent  shall  come. 

Swing  inward,  O  gates  of  the  future  ! 

Swing  outward  ye  doors  of  the  past ! 
A  giant  is  waking  from  slumber 

And  rending  his  fetters  at  last, — 
From  the  dust,  where  his  proud  tyrants  found  him 

Unhonored  and  scorned  and  betrayed, 
He  shall  rise  with  the  sunlight  around  him 

And  rule  in  the  realm  he  has  made. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 


THE  FLAG  AT  HALF-MAST. 


Helen  M.  Cooke  ("  Lottie  Linwood.") 


This  poem  was  written  while  the  flags  were  floating  at  half-mast  in  honor  of 
Peter  Cooper.  It  was  published  January  I,  1887,  and  in  the  brief  time  it  has 
been  before  the  public  it  has  been  a  great  favorite.  The  author  has  written  many 
other  poems  of  merit,  but  none  in  which  the  chords  of  the  human  heart  are  more 
deeply  touched. 


I  SAT  and  watched  the  flags  to-day. 
Some  fluttering  near,  some  far  away ; 
I  saw  them  shrink  and  cling,  as  if 
They  could  not  float  for  weight  of  grief; 
And  then  the  soothing  April  wind 
Just  kissed  their  hems  with  touch  so  kind, 
They  floated  out,  and  I  could  see 
They  all  were  hung  half-mast !     "Ah,  me  ! 
Some  man  is  gone  !     Never,"  I  said, 
"  Were  flags  half-mast  for  woman  dead." 

Begin  in  clear,  conversational  tone,  making  "  sat,"  "  watched," 
-"  flags  "  emphatic.  "  Some  fluttering  near  "  is  given  with  rising 
inflection  ;  "  some  far  away  "  with  falling,  in  order  to  bring  out  the 
contrast  of  distance.  In  third  line  paint  the  "shrink"  by  speaking 
it  as  if  you  were  indicating  the  movement  of  drawing  in,  or  taking 
little  space,  and  linger  on  "  cling "  by  dwelling  on  the  last  two 
letters.  Sink  down  to  sadness  in  reading  the  fourth  line,  but 
brighten  up  and  speak  the  next  three  lines  in  a  sprightly  manner. 
"  They  all  were  hung  half-mast "  is  given  plaintively,  but  the  pathos 
culminates  on  "  Ah,  me  !  "  "  Some  man  is  gone  "  is  given  carelessly, 
as  if  the  speaker  were  not  interested  in  knowing  whom.  "  Never  " 
is  given  with  strong  downward  slide.  "  I  said  "  is  parenthetic,  and 
"  half-mast "  and  "  woman  "  are  the  words  of  value  in  the  last  line. 

And  why  ?     Oh,  world,  I  ask  you  why 
That  flag  up  there  in  the  blue  sky, 
That  floats  half-mast  for  men,  who  have 
Perchance  no  laurels  for  their  grave ; 


2 2  ELOCUTIONAR Y  STUDIES. 

The  flag  for  which  my  grandsires  died, 
Which  was  my  honored  mother's  pride, 
That  gives  its  pledge  of  grief  to-day, 
Should  not,  when  I  shall  pass  away — 
My  work  all  done,  my  prayers  all  said, 
Why  not  half-mast  when  I  am  dead  ? 

Give  emphatic  falling  inflection  on  "  why."  "  Oh,  world  "  is  par- 
enthetic, but  receives  full  force  of  expression,  the  voice  rising  upon 
'"Oh"  and  falling  with  distinct  emphasis  upon  "  world."  "  You  " 
is  given  with  falling  wave,  and  "  why  "  with  the  rising,  and  followed 
by  a  rhetorical  pause.  The  second  line  is  given  with  quick  move- 
ment, the  slight  emphatic  strokes  being  given  to  "flag,  up,  there,  in, 
blue,  sky."  Commence  third  line  slower,  pause  after  "floats;"  give 
lesser  emphasis  on  "half-mast,"  and  much  stronger  on  "men." 
"  Perchance,"  in  the  fourth  line,  is  parenthetic  ;  "  laurels  "  is  made 
emphatic  by  the  falling  wave  of  a  third,  while  "  grave  "  is  given  the 
rising  wave  of  a  third  ;  staccato  movement  on  "  The  flag  for  which 
my  grandsires  died,  which  was  my  honored  mother's  pride,"  with 
emphasis  on  "grandsires"  and  "  died,"  and  rising  wave  of  a  fifth  on 
"honored"  and  falling  on  "mother's."  Speak  this  last  word  ten- 
derly, almost  sacredly.  Emphasize  "  I  ;  "  give  "  work  "  and  "  all  " 
with  rising  voice,  and  "  done  "  with  falling,  pausing  for  rhetorical 
effect  briefly  after  "  all;  "  "  prayers  "  is  spoken  slowly  and  devoutly, 
with  falling  wave  on  "prayers"  and  "  all,"  and  rising  on  "  said." 
Ask  the  question  in  last  line  with  intensity,  emphasizing  "  not "  and 
coloring  the  last  four  words  with  pathos. 

As  soon  as  life's  affections  move, 
Oh,  does  not  woman  learn  to  love 
Each  fold  and  stripe,  and  every  star, 
That  symbols  liberty,  not  war  ? 
That  flag  for  which  the  sons  she  gave 
Have  marched  unflinching  to  the  grave, 
That  hung  half-mast  when  life  had  fled, 
Yet  ne'er  would  droop  o'er  her  when  dead. 

The  first  line  is  given  firmly  throughout  with  more  distinct  final 
stress  on  "  move."  The  most  intense  patriotic  devotion  should  be 
shown  in  the  third  and  fourth  lines.  Make  "  liberty  "  seem  desirable 
and  "war"  to  be  averted.     Great  contrast  must   be  given  the   two 


EL  OCUTIONAR  Y  STUDIES.  23 

words.  Give  fifth  and  sixth  lines  with  staccato  movement,  with 
special  emphasis  to  (t  unflinching."  Next  to  the  last  line  with 
tender  pathos.  The  words  ':  ne'er,  her,  dead  "  are  given  with  ris- 
ing wave  of  the  voice  ;   "  would,  droop,  o'er,  when,"  with  falling. 


If  I  fought  battles  all  my  life, 
With  sin  and  wrong  and  human  strife, 
And  gained  my  victories  great  and  grand 
As  any  soldier  in  the  land  ; 
Or  taught  the  lowly  how  to  live ; 
Gave  to  the  poor  all  I  could  give, 
Gave  to  life's  wounded  ones  the  wine 
From  the  great  healing  Fount  Divine; 
And  turned  the  evil  into  good, 
Blessing  the  world's  sad  brotherhood 
With  deeds  of  hand,  or  heart,  or  pen, 
Of  suffering,  dying,  even  like  men, 
No  starry  flag  would  float  o'erhead 
Half-mast  that  I  was  lying  dead  ! 


Emphasize  "  battles  "  in  first  line ;  dwell  upon  "  sin,  wrong,  human 
strife,"  with  heavy  force  in  second  line.  Give  "  victories  "  its  full 
value,  and  in  speaking  "  great  and  grand  "  make  the  expression 
harmonize  with  the  idea.  Emphasize  "  soldier,  lowly,  poor, 
wounded,  wine,  healing,  Fount  Divine."  Downward  stroke  is  given 
to  "  evil,"  rising  wave  on  "  good."  Dwell  upon  ng  in  "  blessing  ;" 
give  pathetic  tone  to  "  sad  ;  "  emphasize  "  hand,  tongue,  pen,  suf- 
fering, dying."  Read  parenthetic  word  "  even,"  with  lower  pitch. 
Downward  wave  on  "  like,"  upward  on  "  men."  "  No  starry  flag 
would  float  o'erhead  half-mast,"  given  with  pathos  ;  pause  after 
"mast."  "  That  I  was  lying  dead  "  is  given  in  disheartened  tone  and 
manner. 


And  yet  I  love  that  flag  so  well ; 
I  love  to  watch  its  rise  and  swell, 
Like  a  proud  bird,  whose  tireless  wings 
Could  soar  through  cloudland,  as  he  sings 


24  EL  O CUTIONAR  Y  S TUDIES. 

The  song  of  Freedom,  with  his  might ; 

The  song  of  Justice,  Truth  and  Right. 

I  watch  its  graceful  rise  and  fall 

In  the  soft  air,  and  think  of  all 

The  women  who  have  won  a  name 

Immortal,  in  the  world  of  fame. 

That  brighten  history's  treasured  page, 

The  true  of  earth,  the  pure,  the  sage, 

The  gentle  ones,  the  singers  sweet, 

The  martyrs  with  their  bleeding  feet ; 

Yet,  had  I  yielded  all  I  prized, 

And  even  life  had  sacrificed, 

And  my  poor  name  had  led  them  all, 

No  flag  half-mast  would  rise  and  fall, 

In  the  free  heavens  overhead, 

That  I  was  hushed,  and  still,  and  dead. 

Begin  the  last  stanza  with  much  feeling,  giving  a  general  drift  of 
the  final  stress.  Speak  "  flag  "  as  if  pouring  the  fullest  tone  of  patri 
otism  into  the  voice;  emphasize  "  so  well."  The  next  three  lines 
are  descriptive  ;  emphasize  "  cloudland,"  but  reserve  the  greater 
force  for  "Justice,  Truth,  Right."  Give  these  words  their  grand 
import  in  your  tone  and  emphasis.  Fall  gently  in  pitch  upon  "  I 
watch  its  graceful  rise  and  fall  in  the  soft  air  ;  "  rise  in  pitch,  give 
median  stress  to  "  all;"  final  to  "women;  "culminate  the  pitch  on  "  Im- 
mortal in  the  world  of  fame."  Pause  after  "  earth,  pure,  sage,  gentle. 
singers."  Speak  "  martyrs  "  reverently,  "  with  their  bleeding  feet  " 
pathetically.  Emphasize  and  give  final  stress  to  "  yielded ;  "  pause 
after  "  all  I  prized;  "  emphasize  "life"  as  if  it  were,  as  it  is,  the 
most  valuable  thing  to  you.  Pause  after  "  my  poor  name  ; "  give 
"all  "with  great  force;  drop  down  to  pathetic  on  "no  flag  half- 
mast."  Give  upward  slide  on  "  rise,"  and  downward  on  "fall;" 
median  stress  on  "  free,"  falling  wave  on  "heavens"  and  rising  on 
"overhead."  Last  line  should  be  given  in  monotone,  with  very 
slow  time,  and  long  pauses.  "  And  dead  "  may  be  spoken  in  an 
emphatic  whisper. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  25 

THE  COURTSHIPS  OF  ADOLPHUS  M'DUFF. 


A  Susceptible  English  Youth. 


This  selection  yields  a  great  amount  of  humor  when  well  rendered.    The  special 
tone  of  each  speaker  should  be  given. 


"  T  LOVE,  thou  lovest,  he,  she,  or  it  loves ;  we  love,  you  love, 
1  they  love."  So  say  the  grammar  books,  and  so  say  all  of  us. 
There  are,  it  is  true,  beings  who  say  they  have  not  loved,  they  do 
not  love,  they  will  not  love,  and  they  cannot  love;  but  they  are  fit 
for  treasons,  stratagems  and  spoils.  Love  is  a  strange  and  awful 
mystery,  a  combination  of  pleasure  and  of  pain,  which  none  but 
those  who  have  had  the  complaint  can  possibly  imagine  or  com- 
prehend. 

I  was  scarcely  out  of  short  jackets  when  I  fell  over  head,  and 
even  ears,  in  love  with  a  girl  that  stayed  a  few  doors  down  the  street 
from  us.  The  symptoms  first  began  to  manifest  themselves  in  the 
form  of  poetry,  in  which  the  lines  ended  in  the  orthodox  manner 
with : 

love 

dove 

mine 

thine 

soon 

moon 

w  ait 

late 

as  1  have  been  told  they  always  do  in  such  cases.  T  was  seized  with 
violent  palpitation  of  the  heart  whenever  the  maiden  drew  near  ; 
and  turned  so  red  that  I  thought  everybody  must  be  looking  at  me. 
For  a  long  time  she  seemed  quite  unconscious  of  the  havoc  she  was 
working  in  my  heart.  At  last  she  happened  to  catch  me  casting 
glances  at  her  every  now  and  then. 

To  my  horror  and  dismay,  she  made  a  jest  of  the  whole  affair,  and 
told  all  the  other  girls  of  the  good  joke,  and  the  boys  chaffed  me 


26  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

till  my  life  was  rendered  miserable.  What  was  I  to  do  ?  At  first 
I  resolved  to  swallow  cold  poison,  and  die  in  frightful  agony  before 
her  door,  murmuring  with  my  last  faint  breath,  "  Cruel,  cruel  Sopho- 
nisba !  "  On  second  thought,  however,  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
pine  slowly  away  from  want  of  food,  so  that  my  pallid  cheeks  and 
haggard  aspect  might  haunt  her  to  her  dying  day. 

Accordingly,  next  day  I  took  no  breakfast,  and  went  about  cold 
and  famished  till  dinner-time,  when  I  became  so  ravenous  that  I  sat 
down  and  took  the  biggest  dinner  I  had  ever  eaten  in  all  my  life 
and  made  up  my  mind  to  think  no  more  of  the  faithless  one.  I 
soon  recovered  my  spirits  and  began  to  look  for  some  other  fair  one 
who  would  more  readily  reciprocate  my  affections. 

Ere  long  I  became  acquainted  with  Mademoiselle  Marie  Crapeau, 
the  daughter  of  a  French  teacher  who  had  settled  in  town.  She 
used  to  assist  me  with  my  French  lessons,  and  one  day  I  fell  madly 
in  love  with  her.  I  made  an  awful  mess  of  my  translations  that  day. 
I  read : 

La  fille — I  feel  I  love  you. 

Ma  cliere — I'm  the  masher  for  you. 

Ma  mere — Be  my  Marie, 

and  could  have  gone  on  for  hours,  had  her  father  not  put  in  an 
appearance.  Next  day  she  was  going  for  a  walk,  and  I  asked  leave 
to  accompany  her.  As  we  went  along  a  quiet  road.  I  sighed 
deeply  two  or  three  times. 

"  I  sinks  you  are  not  veil  ?  "  said  Mademoiselle  Marie. 

I  sighed  again,  and  placed  my  hand  on  that  part  of  my  stomach 
where  I  thought  my  heart  should  be. 

"  Tell  to  me,"  said  she,  "  vere  ees  your  pains  ?  " 

"  It's  here,  in  my  heart,"  I  said. 

"  Vot  ees  eet  like  ?"• 

"  Oh  !"  I  said,  "  I  can't  describe  it.  Toothache's  nothing  to  it, 
neither  is  measles,  nor  consumption,  nor  smallpox,  nor,  nor  any- 
thing else.  My  heart's  whummeling  about  like  an  empty  barrel, 
and  it's  all  for  love  of  you." 

"  Ah,  you  ees  von  flatterer.  I  have  heard  of  your  vays.  You 
ginks  I  am  so  simple,  but  you  do  not  mean  eet  even  von  leetle  bit." 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  27 

"  Ah,  but  I  do,"  I  said.      "  1  would  die  for  your  sake." 
~"  But  you  have  been  and  dyed  alretty." 

"  How  ?  why  ?  where  ?  when  ?  what  do  you  mean  ?"  I  said, 
bewildered. 

"  Your  hair,  eet  vos  red  ;  eet  ees  black.  You  have  dyed  alretty," 
and  she  ran  away  laughing,  while  I  was  plunged  into  the  inky  waters 
of  despair. 

I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  love  no  more.  But  the  Fates 
were  too  strong  for  me.  Soon  after  this  I  fell  a  victim  to  the 
charms  of  an  American  girl,  who  was  on  a  visit  to  some  friends  in 
die  neighborhood.  She  was  such  a  smart  girl  that  I  was  almost 
afraid  of  her.  Talk  of  catching  a  weasel  asleep  !  Why,  you 
couldn't  catch  her  even  winking.  Before  the  ordinary  girl  would 
be  trusted  out  alone,  this  young  lady  had  "  done  "  France,  Switzer- 
land, Italy,  Egypt  and  India  ;  had  inspected  the  insides  of  the  Pyra- 
mids ;  had  crossed  black,  white,  red  and  yellow  seas  ;  had  been 
chased  by  wolves,  had  been  at  a  tiger  hunt,  had  been  shipwrecked 
on  a  desert  island,  and  would  have  been  eaten  by  cannibals  if  there 
had  been  any  in  the  locality.  She  knew  everything,  and  had  seen 
everything  in  the  wide,  wide  world.  She  spent  a  lot  of  her  time 
seated  in  the  open  air,  reading,  and  I  scraped  an  acquaintance 
with  her,  and  after  a  time  eloquently  pleaded  my  lamentable  case. 

"  Young  man,"  she  said,  "  if  you  mean  business,  go  on." 

"  Business,"  said  I,  "  is  the  passionate  desire  of  my  innermost 
soul." 

"  Well,  then,"  says  she,  "love  in  a  cottage  is  romantic,  and  I 
like  romance  when  it  isn't  all  froth.  Souffles  are  nice,  but  I  guess 
you'd  be  tired  eating  before  you  made  a  square  meal  off  them. 
Now,  to  come  to  the  point,  supposing  we  were  to  set  up  house- 
keeping, what's  your  income  ?" 

"  I've  only  three  shillings  and  sixpence  a  week,"  I  said,  turning 
rather  red  ;  "  but  I've  some  books,  and  a  pair  of  skates,  and  a 
fishing-rod  I  could  sell  ;  and  I've  got  good  prospects,  nnd  a  rich 
uncle  that  might  die;  and  I  love  you  like  anything,  and  we'd  have 
real  jolly  times.     Will  you  be  mine,  dearest  one  ?" 

"  It's  business  I'm  after,"  said  that  practical  young  lady  —  in  such 


28  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

a  chilling  way  that  the  atmosphere  at  once  fell  thirty-five  degrees 
below  zero — "and  it  strikes  me  that,  instead  of  being  your  dearest 
one,  that  at  that  rate  I  would  be  the  cheapest  one  I  ever  heard  tell 
of.  Why,  with  three  shillings  and  sixpence  a  week  we  would  be 
rolling  in  poverty.  A  kiss  and  a  cup  of  cold  water  would  make 
rather  too  poor  a  breakfast  for  me.  Young  man,  it  won't  do.  Try 
some  other  girl.     Ta,  ta  !" 

At  last  I  found  one  who  could  appreciate  me  —  my  affinity.  She 
was.  a  gusher.  She  was  fond  of  poetry,  she  doted  on  romance,  she 
fairly  revelled  in  sentimentality.  The  first  time  I  saw  her  I  felt 
my  heart  thump,  thump,  thumping  away  at  my  ribs  as  if  it  were 
trying  to  break  out  of  a  cage,  and  then  it  leaped  to  my  mouth 
and  right  out,  and  I  lost  it.  I  forgot  all  about  other  girls, 
and  felt  there  was  but  one  girl  in  all  the  world  worth  loving,  and 
this  was  the  one.  I  would  have  done  anything  for  that  girl.  If  she 
had  asked  me  to  swallow  Vesuvius,  or  get  her  a  chunk  off  the  North 
Pole,  it  would  have  had  to  be  done.  If  she  had  asked  me  to  lay 
the  great  Koh-i-noor  at  her  feet,  or  to  make  her  Empress  of  India, 
I  should  have  set  about  it  instantly,  though  I  should  have  had  to 
wade  my  way  through  incarnadine  seas  of  gore.  Her  loveliness  was 
beyond  all  description  !  She  had  eyes  which  melted  my  very  soul 
within  me ;  she  had  lips  redder  than  the  rose,  sweeter  than 
honey  from  the  honeycomb.  Her  cheeks  were  like  peach  blossom, 
her  hair  like  a  cataract  of  gold  ;  her  arms  were  like  alabaster.  The 
touch  of  her  fingers  sent  a  thrill  through  my  whole  frame  like  an 
electric  shock  dipped  in  sugar  ;  her  feet  made  holy  the  ground  she 
walked  upon. 

I  sighed  a  sigh  of  such  a  size  that  the  room  seemed  to  shake,  and, 
the  ceiling  was  raised  a  foot  and  a  half  before  it  subsided. 

She  sighed  a  little  sigh  which  seemed  like  a  morning  zephyr  pass- 
ing oVer  a  bed  of  roses. 

We  both  sighed,  and  then  all  was  silence. 

"Ah  !  "   I  said  to  myself,  "  this  is  indeed  sweet  sadness." 

Then  I  gazed  fondly  at  her,  and  she  gave  me  a  look  that  seemed 
to  lift  me  right  off  my  feet,  and  made  my  head  swim.  I  saw  I  had 
made  an  impression,  and  that  I  must  do  and  dare,  and  that  at  once. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STlfDT£S.  29 

I  had  a  geranium  in  my  buttonhole,  and  I  presented  it  to  her,  and 
said  : 

"Are  you  fond  of  flowers  ?  " 

"  I  could  literally  live  on  them  for  ever.     And  you,  Adolphus  ?  " 

"  If  they  were  cauliflowers  I  could  live  on  them,  but  even  theft* 
I'd  like  a  bit  of  beef  once  in  a  while." 

"Ah  !   You  are  trying  to  make  fun  of  my  sentimentality." 

"No  !  "  I  cried,  "  I  am  in  awful,  solid  earnest ;  I  love  you  tondly, 
dearly,  madly,  frantically.  Tell  me,  oh,  tell  me  !  may  I  venture  to 
hope  ?  " 

"  Do  you  love  me  so  much  ?  " 

"  Much  ?  yes,  more  than  tongue  can  tell !  Yea,  even  although  a 
thousand  scribes  with  a  thousand  golden  pens  wrote  for  a  thousand 
long  years,  they  could  not  tell  the  thousandth  part  of  my  passion- 
ate love  !  " 

"  My  own,  my  dearest  Adolphus,  I  am  thine  ! " 

Then  the  sun  shone  out  as  brightly  as  if  his  face  had  got  an  extra 
polish.  The  few  clouds  which  had  dimmed  the  blue  azure  of  the 
summer  sky  scudded  off  as  if  they  were  heartily  ashamed  of  them- 
selves. The  birds  sang  overhead  as  they  had  never  sung  before, 
till  the  whole  air  was  full  of  music.  The  flowers  lavished  forth  their 
balmiest  fragrance,  and  displayed  their  robes  of  richest  hue.  The 
little  daisies  peered  inquisitively  up.  The  cornstalks  nodded  their 
heads  as  if  to  say  they  knew  all  about  it.  The  trees  seemed  to 
twine  their  arms  affectionately,  and  draw  closer  to  each  other.  The 
very  wind  murmured  a  faint  benediction.  Oh,  it  was  bliss  indeed  ! 
It  was  worth  living  through  the  expectant  ages  of  eternity  to  enjoy 
such  a  moment  as  that.  All  nature  seemed  to  rejoice  with  us,  and 
breathe  forth  love,  joy,  and  peace.  It  seemed  to  me  that  there  was 
no  more  sorrow,  or  sin,  or  suffering  left  in  any  corner  of  the  wide. 
wide  world,  but  that  it  had  been  all  sunk  to  the  very  bottom  of  the 
aea,  and  the  cork  put  in. 

How  long  we  sat  I  do  not  know.  Time  was  of  no  account.  It 
may  have  been  days,  it  may  have  been  hours.  It  matters  not !  At 
last  I  turned  to  her  and  said : 

"  Is  00  happy,  'ittle  ootsey-wootsey  ?  " 


30  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

"  Oh,  so  happy  !     Is  topsy-nopsy  happy  too  ?  " 

"  Oh,  so  happy  !  " 

"  What  would  topsy-nopsy  do  if  there  was  no  ootsey-wootsey  in 
the  wide,  wide  world  ?  " 

I  was  about  to  assure  her  that  existence  would  be  but  a  Sahara 
without  her,  when  a  gruff  voice  from  behind  the  bushes  growled 
out: 

"  Snopsy-wopsy  would  be  courting  some  other  girl,  that's  what  !  " 

It  was  her  big  brother;  Seraphina  fled  one  way  and  I  the  other, 
and  I  haven't  seen  her  since.  That  was  a  month  ago.  When  will 
the  next  fair  charmer  come  ?   Ah  me  ! 


THE   CORPSE'S   HUSBAND. 


A  Dialogue  between  a  Mistress  and  A   Maii 


BRIDGET  :  I'd  like  to  go  away  the  day  ma-am  \looking  toward  the 
right  as  if  the  lady  were  standing  near,  and  dropping  a  courtesy']  ; 
the  work  is  all  done  ma-am,  and  there's  nothing  to  do,  ma-am,  air 
its  a  funeral  if  you  plaze,  ma-am. 

Lady  :  [  Turning  toward  left]  I'm  very  sorry  to  hear  it  Bridget. 
I  hope  it  is  not  the  funeral  of  a  friend  or  relative. 

Bridget  :  No  frind  or  rilative,  ma-am,  but  only  a  frind  av  a 
frind,  an'  I'll  be  back  at  tin  o'clock,  the  morrow,  plaze  God. 

Lady  :  You  can  go,  Bridget,  of  course,  but  don't  make  any  mis- 
take about  coming  back. 

Bridget:  Don't  ye  give  yersilf  anny  unasiness  aboot  that,  ma- 
am,  don't  ye  give  yersilf  anny  throuble  aboot  that,  ma-am.  It  is 
not  Bridget  O'Harra,  that  ud  sarve  ye  the  mane  thrick  not  to  come 
back  whin  ye  give  her  the  devarsion  of  goin'  to  a  funeral,  manny 
thanks  to  ye.  Don't  ye  give  yersilf  anny  unasiness  aboot  that, 
I'll  be  back  betimes,  I  will. 

[Three  o'clock  on  the  following  day,  and  Bridget  just  returned. ,1 

Lady  :   Why,  Bridget,  what  has  happened  to  detain  you  so  ? 

Bridget:  [Exploding,  in  what  seems  to  be  a  flood  of  rage,  but  is 
assumed  as  an  excuse  for  what  she  is  to  say]  An'  is  it  because   I    did 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  31 

not  come  back  at  tin  o'clock  that  ye  spake  to  me  in  that  way  ?     I'll 
give  ye  warnin'  and  lave  at  once,  as  I  said  I  wud. 

Lady  :  Why,  Bridget  what  is  the  matter  ?  'I  don't  know  what  I 
have  said  to  put  you  in  such  a  temper.  I  thought  you  liked  the 
place. 

Bridget:  \Q11iie  subdued,  lone  changed  entirely,  picking  at  tier 
clothing  and  showing  embarrassment  in  various  ways\  Well,  I  do 
like  the  place,  and  I  like  you,  ma-am.  It  was  the  last  thing  I 
thought  of  yisterday  morn  to  lave  yer  imploy,  but  its  all  along  of 
the  funeral,  ma-am  {embarrassment  increases],  its  all  along  of  the 
funeral. 

Lady  :    Well,  I'm  sure  you  need  not  be  afraid  to  tell  me  about  it. 

Bridget:  [Reassured,  and  speaking  rapidly]  O,  ma-am,  I  do 
think  it  be  the  worst  thing  for  a  man  to  be  loosin'  his  wife;  an'  the 
way  that  one  did  go  on,  a  cryin'  and  a  groanin',  a  cryin'  and  a 
groanin',  it  wud  just  go  to  your  heart  to  hear  it.  Why,  ma-am,  I 
never  heerd  anny  think  like  it,  except  from  me  brother  Tim  [crying] 
whin  the  pigs  ate  the  baby. 

As  I  said  before,  he  was  just  a  cryin'  and  a  groanin',  an'  what 
could  I  do  but  go  to  him  ?  as  anny  woman  wid  a  hart  in  her  bussum 
would  have  done  ;  ye  wud  most  like  have  done  it  yersilf,  ma-am- 
What  could  I  do  but  go  to  him,  and  jist  go  to  strokin'  'im  down 
[make  a  movement  of  stroking  the  shoulders  of  an  imaginary  person  in 
the  chair  before  you],  and  strokin'  'im,  an'  he  all  the  whoile  a  cryin' 
and  a  takin'  on  ;  what  cud  I  do  but  comfort  him  by  sayin',  "  Take 
it  azy,  take  it  azy  [in  a  very  compassionate  tone],  there's  more  days  in 
the  sky  and  there's  more  gerls  in  the  world,  take  it  azy,  take  it  azy." 
An'  this  mornin'  he  said  I  wus  the  liveliest  gerl  at  the  funeral  [laugh- 
ing immoderately,  almost  doubling  up  in  the  efforf\,  an'  [clapping 
her  hands  and  dancing  in  the  tvildest  glee]  we're  goin'  to  be  married, 
ma-am,  we're  goin'  to  be  married,  the  corpse's  husband  and  me, 
ma-am,  die  corpse's  husband  and  me. 


32  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

THE   BURGOMASTER'S   DEATH. 


Adapted   from   the   Play  of   "  The   Bells,"    for   Recitation,   by    Prof.   Thos.   F.   Wil- 

ford,.  A.  M. 


[Scene — Room  in  the  Burgomaster's  house.  Table  and  chair  R. 
Candle  lighted  on  table.  Chair  L.  Couch  at  back.  Enter  L,  Mat- 
hias.      Cautiously  locks  door  and  puts  key  into  pocket. \ 

AT  last  I  am  alone  !  Everything  goes  well.  Christian,  the 
gendarme,  is  to-night  made  my  son-in-law  ;  my  darling  child, 
Annette,  is  now  firmly  settled  for  life,  and  so  vanishes  all  fear  from 
me.  To-night  I  shall  sleep  without  a  terror  haunting  me.  Ah  ! 
what  a  power  it  is  to  know  how  to  guide  your  destiny  in  life.  You 
must  hold  good  cards  in  your  hands !  good  cards  !  as  I  have 
done,  and  if  you  play  them  well  you  may  defy  ill-fortune. 

[Revellers  heard  singing  outside. ~\ 
|  Taking  off coat.]  Ha!  ha!  ha!  those  jolly  topers  have  got  all 
they  want.  What  holes  in  the  snow  they  will  make  before  they 
leach  their  homes  !  Drink  !  drink  !  Is  it  not  strange  ?  To  drink 
and  drown  every  remorse.  [Touring  out  water.]  But  does  it  drown 
remorse  ?  Does  it  drown  the  memory  of  that  night  fifteen  years 
ago  ?  [Raises  glass  to  lips.]  What  is  the  date  ?  [Puts  dozvn  glass 
—  very  much  affected,  j  God  !  'tis  the  same — this  night  exactly.  And 
just  such  a  night.  O,  Mathias !  Mathias !  if  your  friends  who 
respect  you  only  knew  the  secret  that  has  been  at  your  heart  for 
years.     If  your  wife  and  child  knew  what  raised  them  from  poverty 

to    affluence    was    crime  —  was    mur .      Sh  !    walls    have    ears. 

How  cold  I  am  !  [Brinks.']  Yet  I  could  not  help  it.  Why  did 
the  Jew  come  to  my  inn  when  the  clouds  of  poverty  hung  most 
heavily  over  our  house  ?  Why  did  he  come  with  that  belt  full  of 
gold  to  tempt  me  ?  I  could  not  see  my  loved  ones  turned  out  on 
the  roadside  the  next  day  in  the  bitter  winter  cold.     No  one  who  is 

human    could [Starts   up  —  listens  with   terror.]     Bells!  bells! 

[Runs  to  window  —  looks  out P\  No  one  on  the  road.  [Comes  for- 
ward^ What  is  this  jangling  in  my  ears?  What  is  to-night? 
Ah.!  it  is  to-night  —  the  very  hour.  [Clock  strikes  ten.]  I  feel  a 
darkness  coming  over  me.     [Lights  down.}     A  sensation  of  gidd,i- 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  33 

ness  seizes  me.  [Staggers  to  chair.\  Shall  I  call  for  help  ?  No, 
no,  Mathias.  Have  courage  !  The  Jew  is  dead.  How  lucky  I 
decided  to  sleep  by  myself  to-night.  Pshaw  !  it  is  only  in  fancy 
that  I  hear  the  sound  of  the  Jew's  sleigh-bells  —  it  is  only  fancy.  I 
am  safe.  The  people  about  here  are  such  idiots  they  suspect  noth- 
ing. I  am  nervous  to-night.  It  was  that  Parisian  fellow  —  the 
mesmerist  —  at  the  fair  to-day  who  is  the  cause  of  it  all.  When  he 
wanted  to  send  me  to  sleep  as  well  as  the  others,  I  said  to  myself, 
"  Stop,  stop,  Mathias  —  this  sending  you  to  sleep  may  be  an  inven- 
tion of  the  devil ;  you  might  relate  certain  incidents  in  your  past 
life  !  You  must  be  cleverer  than  that,  Mathias  ;  you  musn't  run 
your  neck  into  a  halter;  you  must  be  cleverer  than  that."  [Starting 
up  and crossing  L.}  You  will  die  an  old  man  yet,  Mathias,  and  the 
most  respected  in  the  province — [takes  snuff}  —  only  this,  since 
you  dream  and  are  apt  to  talk  in  your  dreams,  for  the  future  you 
sleep  alone  in  this  room,  the  door  locked,  and  the  key  safe  in  your 
pocket.  [Goes  to  table  —  unlocks  dtawer — takes  out  girdle. \  That 
girdle  did  us  a  good  turn  ;  without  it  —  without  it,  we  were  ruined. 
If  Catherine  only  knew  —  poor,  poor  Catherine.  [Sobs,  and  head 
falls  forward  on  his  amis  on  table.  Bells  heard.  Mathias  starts  up 
—  goes  up  to  window.}  The  bells !  The  bells  again  !  they  must 
come  from  the  mill.  [Looks  out.}  No;  the  wheel  is  stopped  and 
the  mill  is  in  darkness.  [Bells  cease.}  The  bells  stop.  It  must  be 
fancy  —  it  must  be  fancy.  How  that  night  comes  back  to  me. 
We  were  just  seated  at  a  game  of  cards  down  stairs,  when, 
as  the  old  clock  struck  ten,  the  sound  of  horse-bells  was  heard ; 
a  sledge  stopped  before  the  door,  and  almost  immediately  after- 
ward the  Polish  Jew  entered.  He  was  a  well-made,  vigorous  man, 
between  forty  and  fifty  years  of  age.  I  fancy  even  now  I  can  see 
him  entering  the  door  with  his  green  cloak  and  his  fur  cap,  his  large 
black  beard  and  his  great  boots  covered  with  hare-skin.  He  was  a 
seed  merchant.  He  says  as  he  comes  in,  "  Peace  be  with  you !" 
I  ask  him,  "  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?"  But  the  Jew,  without  reply- 
ing, first  opens  his  cloak  and  then  unbuckles  a  girdle  which  he  wore 
around  his  waist.  This  he  throws  upon  the  table,  and  I  hear  the 
ringing  sound  of  gold— gold.     Then  he  says,  "The  snow  is  deep, 


34  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

the  road  difficult ;  put  my  horse  in  the  stable.  In  one  hour  I  shall 
continue  my  journey."  After  that  he  drinks  his  wine  without  speak- 
ing to  any  one,  and  sits  like  a  man  depressed  and  anxious  about  his 
affairs.  At  eleven  o'clock  the  night  watchman  comes  in.  Every 
one  then  goes  to  his  home,  and  the  Jew  and  I  are  left  alone. 
[Comes  forward.]  The  next  morning  they  find  the  Jew's  horse 
dead  under  the  old  bridge,  and  a  hundred  yards  further  on,  his  green 
cloak  and  fur  cap  —  stained  —  with  —  blood.  {Looks  around.] 
But  as  to  what  became  of  the  Jew  himself  has  never  to  this  day 
been  discovered.  [Laughs  grimly.']  Fools!  [fours  out  wine] — they 
never  suspected  I  had  anything  to  do  with  his  disappearance. 
[Drinks  and  rises.]  The  room  is  growing  cold  and  my  eyes  are 
getting  heavy.  [Lies  on  couch  at  back.]  I'll  lie  here  awhile.  Ha  ! 
ha !  Mathias,  have  no  fear ;  you  have  played  your  game  well. 
Sleep  in  peace,  then  !  You  have  triumphed,  and  conscience  is  at 
rest  —  at  —  rest.      [Sleeps.] 

[Chorus  of  revellers  heard  more  faintly .] 

[Mathias  begins  to  move  restlessly  in  his  sleep.] 

[Sleeping.]  I  say  no.  A  man  cannot  be  condemned  upon  such 
supposition.  You  must  have  proofs.  I  do  not  hear  the  sound  of 
bells.  \Bells.\  It  is  the  blood  rushing  to  my  brain  —  this  jangling 
in  my  ears.  Christian,  I  have  made  you  my  son;  I  have  made 
you  rich  ;  come  and  defend  me.  My  honor  is  your  honor.  Come 
to  me,  Christian.  [Pause.]  Take  away  the  mesmerist  —  his  eyes 
burn  into  my  soul.  He  shall  not  put  me  to  sleep  —  he  shall  not. 
\  Pause.  Mathias  sits  up  on  couch  ;  his  eyes  open  with  the  vacant  stare 
of  one  in  sleep.  He  rises  to  his  feet  —  comes  forward  and  speaks  in  a 
low,  hollow  voice.]  You  command  me  to  tell  the  story  of  my  crime. 
So  be  it.  It  is  the  night  of  the  24th  of  December,  181 8  —  the  hour, 
half-past  eleven.  The  people  are  leaving  the  inn ;  Catherine  and 
little  Annette  have  gone  to  rest.  One  man  Kaspar  comes  in.  He 
tells  me  the  lime-kiln  is  lighted.  I  answer  him,  "  It  is  well ;  go  to 
bed ;  I  will  see  to  the  kiln."  He  leaves  me.  I  am  alone  with  the 
Jew,  who  is  warming  himself  by  the  stove.  Without  all  is  rest.  No 
sound  is  heard,  except  from  time  to  time  the  Jew's  horse  under  the 
shed,  when  he  shakes   his  bells.     [Stops  as  if  thinking.}     I   must 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  35 

have  money.  If  I  have  not  three  thousand  francs  by  the  31st 
the  inn  will  be  taken  from  me.  There  is  no  one  stirring;  it  is 
night;  there  are  two  feet  of  snow  upon  the  ground,  and  the  Jew 
will  follow  the  high  road  alone.  [After  a  short  silence.  ]  But  he  is 
strong.  He  would  defend  himself  well,  should  any  one  attack  him. 
[In  a  low  voice. \  He  looks  at  me.  He  has  gray  eyes.  [As  if 
speaking  to  himself.  \  I  must  strike  the  blow!  [Decidedly. \  Yes, 
yes;  I  will  strike  the  blow!  I  will  risk  it!  \A  pause. \  I  must, 
however,  look  around.  The  night  is  dark;  it  still  snows;  no  one 
would  trace  my  footsteps  in  the  snow.  [Raises  his  hand  as  if  feeling 
for  something.]  Let  me  see  if  lie  carries  any  pistols  in  the  sledge. 
No,  no;  there  is  nothing — nothing  at  all.  I  can  risk  it.  [He 
listens.']  All  is  silent  in  the  village!  kittle  Annette  is  crying;  a 
goat  bleats  in  the  stable  ;  the  Jew  is  walking  in  his  room  !  He 
comes  back  ;  he  places  five  francs  upon  the  table ;  I  return  him  his 
money  ;  he  fixes  his  eyes  steadily  upon  me  !  He  speaks  to  me  ! 
He  asks  me  how  far  it  is  to  Mutzig.  "  Four  leagues."  I  wish  him 
well  upon  his  journey  !  He  answers,  "  God  bless  you  !"  He  goes 
out  —  he  is  gone.  [Mathias,  with  body  bent,  takes  several  steps  for- 
ward as  if  following  and  watching  his  victim  —  he  extends  his  hands.] 
The  axe  !  where  is  the  axe  ?  Ah  !  here,  behind  the  door  !  How 
cold  it  is  !  [He  trembles.]  The  snow  falls  —  not  a  star  !  Courage, 
Mathias,  you  shall  possess  the  girdle  —  courage  !  I  follow  him.  I 
have  crossed  the  fields!  [Points.]  Here  is  the  old  bridge,  and 
there  below  the  frozen  rivulet  !  How  the  dogs  howl  at  Darnel's 
farm  !  how  they  howl  !  And  old  Finck's  forge,  how  brightly  -it 
glows  upon  the  hillock.  [Low,  as  if  speaking  to  himself]  Kill  a 
man!  kill  a  man  !  You  will  not  do  that,  Mathias  —  you  will  not 
do  that  !  Heaven  forbids  it.  [Proceeding  to  walk  with  measured 
steps  and  befit  body.]  You  are  a  fool  !  Listen;  you  will  be  rich. 
Your  wife  and  child  will  no  longer  want  for  anything  !  The  Jew 
came  ;  so  much  the  worse  —  so  much  the  worse.  He  ought  not  to 
have  come  !  You  will  pay  all  you  owe  ;  you  will  be  no  more  in 
debt.  [Loud,  in  a  broken  lone.]  It  must  be,  Mathias,  that  you  kill 
him  !  [He  listens.]  No  one  is  on  the  road  —  no  one  !  [  With  an 
expression  of  terror.]      What  dr<  adful  silence!      [He  wipes  his  fore- 


36  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

/lead  with  his  hand .]  One  o'clock  strikes,  and  the  moon  shines! 
Ah  !  the  Jew  has  already  passed  !  Thank  God  !  thank  God  !  [He 
kneels  —  a  pause  —  he  listens — the  bells  heard  off.~\  No!  The 
bells !  The  bells !  He  comes !  Be  careful,  Mathias.  Don't 
dabble  your  sleeves  in  his  blood  !  Roll  them  up  tight !  Remem- 
ber the  girdle  !  the  girdle  !  [He  bends  down  in  a  watching  attitude, 
and  remains  still — a  pause  —  in  a  low  voice.]  You  will  be  rich  — 
you  will  be  rich  —  you  will  be  rich  !  [Bells  increase  in  sound — 
Mathias  as  if  watching  —  suddenly  he  springs  forward,  and  with  a 
species  of  savage  roar  strikes  a  terrible  blow  with  his  right  hand.]  Ah, 
ha!  I  have  you  now,  Jew!  \He  strikes  again,  then  leans  forward 
and  gazes  anxiously  on  the  ground —  he  extends  his  hand  as  if  to  touch 
something,  but  draws  it  back  in  horror.]  He  does  not  move.  I  have 
done  it.  [He  raises  himself — utters  a  deep  sigh  of  relief  arid  looks 
around. J  The  horse  has  fled  with  the  sledge.  [Kneeling  down.\ 
He  is  dead  —  all  is  over  !  [Looks  around, ,]  Another  noise  !  Noth- 
ing again  —  only  the  wmd  whistling  through  the  trees.  Quick, 
quick,  let  me  get  the  girdle  at  once  —  the  girdle  at  once.  Ha!  I 
have  it.  [Performs  action,  while  speaking,  of  taking  the  girdle  from 
the  Jew's  body  arid  fastening  it  around  his  own.]  I  am  panting  for 
breath  !  I  can  scarcely  buckle  it  around  my  waist.  Nothing  but 
gold  in  it  !  Nothing  but  gold !  Nothing  but  gold !  Quick, 
Mathias,  be  quick !  Carry  him  away  !  Carry  him  away  !  [He 
bends  low  down  and  appears  to  lift  the  body  upon  his  back  ;  he  then 
walks  across  stage,  his  body  bent,  his  steps  slow  as  a  man's  who  carries 
a  heavy  burden.  j  I  shall  take  him  to  the  lime-kiln,  f  Walking  L.\ 
1  am  there.  [He  appears  to  throw  down  the  body.]  How  heavy 
he  was  !  O,  what  hands  are  here  !  Dabbled  with  his  blood  !  I'll 
have  no  more  of  that.  [Looks  around.]  Where's  the  shovel  ? 
[Bends  down  to  take  it  up.]  I'll  push  him  in  with  that.  [In  a  hoarse 
voice.]  Go  into  the  fire,  Jew  —  go  into  the  fire  !  [Appears  to  push 
the  body  in  with  his  whole  force  —  shades  his  face  with  his  hand.] 
Be  careful,  or  the  fire  will  scorch  you  !  Look,  look,  look  !  he  is 
burning,  he  is  burning,  burning,  burning,  burning.  The  corpse 
turns  on  the  fire.  The  face  is  turned  upward.  [He  suddenly  utters  a 
cry  of  horror,  and  staggers  away  R,  his  face  covered  with  his  hands.] 
Ah  !  those  eyes— those  eyes  !     How  they  glare  at  me— glare  at  me  ! 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  37 

THE  DREAM  OF  SISTER  AGNES. 


This  is  a  very  beautiful  poem  and  makes  a  good  Christmas  study. 


IN  the  snowy  moonlit  midnight        ' 
Faint  and  far  the  chimes  are  ringing ; 
In  the  cloister's  gray  old  chapel 

Clear  and  sweet  the  nuns  are  singing  j 
In  the  shimmer  of  the  candles, 

High  above  the  altar,  stands, 
White  and  sad,  the  Christ  outstretching 

On  the  cross  His  patient  hands, 
And  the  pale  Sister  Agnes 

Watches,  with  weary  eyes, 
Between  her  face  and  His  image, 

The  rolling  incense  rise  ; 
And  she  hears  her  own  soul  sobbing 

As  the  music  swells  and  sighs  : 

Begin  in  descriptive  manner,  though  somewhat  slow  and  grave ; 
emphasize  "  snowy,  moonlit,  midnight,"  and  pause  after  each 
word.  "  Faint  "  should  be  given  with  sustained  voice  and  less  force  ; 
"  far  "  as  if  to  send  the  voice  some  distance  ;  "  chimes  "  takes  a 
decided  falling  inflection.  Seem  to  be  listening  while  filling  the  time 
given  to  the  rhetorical  pause  which  follows  the  emphatic  word ; 
then  bring  out  "  are  ringing  "  very  distinctly,  though  not  with  pro- 
nounced emphasis.  Give  falling  slide  on  "  cloister's;  "  "  gray"  and 
"  old,"  being  explanatory,  are  given  with  slightly  lowered  pitch ; 
"  chapel  "  receives  the  emphasis  given  by  the  compound  stress. 
"  Clear  and  sweet  "  is  given  with  monotone,  with  slight  final  stress 
on  the  last  word.  Emphasize  "  nuns ;  "  pause  and  then  give,  as  if 
you  hear  them,  "  are  singing."  Change  the  melody  as  you  begin  the 
fourth  line ;  quicken  the  time  a  little  and  give  a  slight,  tremulous 
movement  on  "  shimmer."  A  gesture  of  direction  should  be  given 
on  "  high  above  the  altar  stands,"  and  is  retained  during  the  two 
following  lines.  With  "  white  and  sad "  there  may  be  a  slight 
movement  of  the  hand  to  left  and  then  to  right,  as  the  words  are 
spoken  pityingly.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  describe  the  religious 
feeling  which  should  be  thrown  into  these  three  lines  —  feel  it,  if 
possible,  as  simulation  at  best  loses  the  expression  of  reality,  and 


38  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

may  usually  be  detected.  At  "the  Christ  outstretching"  there  will 
be  a  slight  raising  of  the  shoulders,  an  almost  imperceptible  mov- 
ing of  the  hand  to  the  light  on  "  outstretching,"  and  returning  to 
place  on  "  Christ."  Try  and  make  your  audience  have  a  picture  of 
"pale  sister  Agnes  ^"  but  to  do  this  you  must  first  have  the  picture 
in  your  own  mind.  Give  a  gentle  waving  of  the  extended  hand, 
something  as  if  outlining  from  lips  of  the  fingers  a  long  and  narrow 
letter  O  lying  upon  its  side  thus  <^)  as  you  speak  the  words  "roll- 
ing incense."  Give  a  slightly  sobbing  sound  on  the  pronunciation 
of  the  word  "sobbing."  A  gentle  expansion  of  voice  should  be 
given  to  "swells,"  and  pathos  shown  on  "  sighs,"  which  is  spoken 
with  sustained  voice. 

"  The  stones  are  cold  in  the  chancel, 

Cold  as  the  cruel  snow  ; 
The  moon  is  cold  in  Heaven, 

And  the  frozen  earth  below 
Lies  dead  on  the  breast  of  midnight, 

Frozen  to  death,  I  know  ! 
Even  the  yellow  candles 

Look  cold,  like  those  icy  stars 
That  all  night  long  are  watching 

Beyond  my  window  bars  ; 
The  writhing  incense  shivers 

Like  an  outcast  soul  in  pain  — 
The  cold  has  crept  into  my  bosom 

And  wound  about  my  brain. 

You  could  not  read  this  stanza  feelingly  without  a  perceptible 
shiver  through  the  lines,  which  culminates  on  the  last  two  lines. 
There  must  be  appropriate  gestures  of  place ;  indicate  and  locate 
the  stones  in  the  chancel;  the  cruel  snow  is  without  the  edifice  and 
must  be  so  shown  ;  the  moon  is  high  in  the  heavens  ;  the  earth  is 
spread  out  at  your  feet.  "  Frozen  to  death  "  is  made  very  em- 
phatic. 

"  And  that  is  why  I  am  dreaming ; 

I  have  forgotten  the  prayer, 
And  the  faces  around  me  waver 

Far  off  in  the  misty  air. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  39 

There  stands  the  blazing  altar, 

But  it  is  not  that  I  see — 
Only  the  twinkling  tapers 

In  the  boughs  of  a  Christmas  tree. 
There  hang  the  wreaths  of  holly, 

And  the  white-starred  mistletoe, 
And  the  shadows  dart  and  nicker 

In  the  great  fire's  ruddy  glow — 
It  kindles  even  the  midnight, 

And  warms  the  breast  of  the  snow  ! 


She  explains  or  apologizes  for  herself  in  the  first  line  ;  in  the  sec- 
ond she  is  troubled  about  her  forgetfulness  ;  in  the  third  and  fourth 
lines  she  seems  to  be  looking  far  off  in  the  misty  air.  Her  con- 
sciousness tells  her  that  the  blazing  altar  is  before  her,  and  yet  she 
sees  only  the  twinkling  tapers  in  a  Christmas  tree.  She  imagines 
that  she  sees  the  "  wreaths  of  holly"  and  the  "  white-starred  mistle- 
toe," and  that  the  great  fire  lights  up  the  midnight  and  warms  the 
snow. 


"I  am  dreaming — only  dreaming — 

Hark !  what  do  the  voices  say  ? 
The  waifs  sing  under  my  window, 

Out  in  the  dawning  gray — 
Singing  of  Bethlehem's  stable, 

And  the  Child  who  was  born  to-day ! 
Or  is  it  the  nuns  who  are  chanting, 

Chanting  sweet  and  slow, 
A  rhyme  of  forgotten  childhood, 

Lost  so  long  ago  ? 


In  her  confusion  she  fancies  she  must  be  "  dreaming — only 
dreaming."  A  listening  attitude  is  taken  as  "  Hark  "  is  spoken, 
and  continued  on  "  what  do  the  voices  say."  "  Bethlehem's  sta- 
ble "  and  "  Child"  are  words  of  value  and  must  have  due  emphasis. 
She  is  confused  again  upon  the  seventh  line  ;  in  the  last  two  lines 
she  tries  to  recall  something  which  is  all  but  lost  to  memory. 


4o  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

"  Under  the  holly  branches, 

In  the  yule-log's  flame  and  flare, 
Under  the  Christmas  tapers 

Shine  the  old  faces  fair! 
Round  me  the  warmth  comes  creeping 

Of  arms,  that  clasped  and  clung 
Stronger  than  arms  of  a  mother, 

When  love  and  dreams  were  young! 
So  warm  — so  strong  ! —  they  held  me 

Till  Death  breathed  cold  between, 
And  I  think  I  died,  with  the  dreaming, 

And  all  that  might  have  been. 

Back  she  goes  in  fancy  to  her  childhood's  home  —  long  before  she 
had  given  up  all  for  the  church.  The  story  of  her  life  is  rather  indi- 
cated than  told;  she  seems  to  have  suffered  the  loss  of  earthly  affec- 
tion by  the  death  of  one  she  loved,  and  she  says,  "  Death  breathed 
cold  between,  and  I  think  I  died."  How  hopelessly  are  the  last 
two  words  uttered  ! 

"Now  it  is  cold  forever, 

And  the  world  lies  white  and  dead. 
With  the  snow  for  a  shroud  wrapped  round  her, 

And  the  stars  lit  at  her  head. 
Are  they  stars,  or  the  Christmas  candles, 

That  shine  in  the  icy  air  ? 
The  Christ  from  His  cross  has  vanished 

And  a  little  Child  stands  there — 
Stretching  His  hand  to  lead  me 

Out  of  the  cold  —  ah  !  where  ?" 

Her  face  lights  up  with  joy  as  she  utters  the  words  of  the  second 
and  third  lines  from  the  close  of  the  stanza : 
"  And  a  little  Child  stands  there 
Stretching  His  hand  to  lead  me." 
"  Out    of    the    cold "    is    given    shiveringly.     "Ah !    where  ? " 
Though    the    question    "  where "  is    asked,   it   is  not   because    the 
future  is  blank  or  dark  to  her.     There  is  joy  in  her  release  from 
earth,    and   faith  that  all  will  be  well  beyond.      We  can  imagine 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  4i 

that  to  hei  eyes  fading  to  things  of  sense  a  beatific  vision 
may  have  opened.  The  right  hand  in  normo-vkal  attitude  will  be 
stretched  upward  to  the  right,  the  position  of  the  head  will  be 
mento-vital,  the  expression  of  the  eyes  mento-vital. 

Clearly  through  the  frosty  silence 

In  the  tower  the  chimes  are  ringing  ; 
In  the  gray  old  chapel's  choir 

Loud  and  sweet  the  nuns  are  singing; 
Only  one  is  kneeling  dumbly — 

In  her  wide  and  weary  eyes, 
On  her  lips,  like  marble  carven, 

Death's  unfathomed  wonder  lies — 
For  the  mystic  Guide  hath  led  her, 

Smiling,  into  Paradise. 

Bring  out  "  loud  and  sweet"  with  good  expression.  "  Only  one 
is  kneeling  dumbly — ,"  a  gesture  may  be  given  on  "  one  "  in  the  direc- 
tion where  in  imagination  you  have  placed  the  kneeling  nun.  Give 
almost  a  perfect  monotone  on  "  Death's  unfathomed  wonder  lies." 
The  last  line  of  the  stanza  confirms  the  directions  given  for  reading 
the  closing  portion  of  the  preceding  stanza. 

Out  of  the  gates  of  sunrise 

The  herald  dawn  breaks  sweet ; 
Over  the  hills  and  valleys 

Day  comes  with  shining  feet ; 
Over  the  heaving  ocean 

And  the  plains  of  ice  and  snow, 
And  over  the  Holy  City 

Where  Christ  walked  long  ago  ; 
Over  the  eyes  unseeing 

Wakens  the  Christmas  morn — 
Unto  the  dead  and  living 
Stretches  the  Hand  forgiving — 

And  the  Child  is  born  ! 

Close  by  reading  this  last  stanza  brightly,  joyously  yet  religiously, 
as  if  Christmas  morning  were  in  every  sense  the  herald  of  peace  on 
earth  and  good  will  to  men. 


42  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

FISHING. 


Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox. 


MAYBE  this  is  fun,  sitting  in  the  sun, 
With  a  book  and  parasol,  as  my  angler  wishes, 
While  he  dips  his  line  in  the  ocean  brine, 

Under  the  delusion  that  his  bait  will  catch  the  fishes. 

Tis  romantic — yes  !  but  I  must  confess 

Thoughts  of  shady  rooms  at  home  somehow  seem  more  inviting. 
But  I  dare  not  move.     "  Quiet,  there,  my  love," 

Says  my  angler,  "  for  I  think  a  monstrous  fish  is  biting," 

Oh,  of  course,  it's  bliss — still  how  hot  it  is  ! 

And  the  rock  I'm  sitting  on  grows  harder  every  minute, 
While  my  fisher  waits,  trying  various  baits, 

But  the  basket  at  his  side,  I  see,  has  nothing  in  it. 

It  is  just  the  way  to  pass  a  July  day — 

Arcadian  and  sentimental,  dreamy,  idle,  charming; 

But  how  fierce  the  sunlight  falls,  and  the  way  that  insect  crawls 
Along  my  neck  and  down  my  back  is  really  quite  alarming. 

"  Any  luck  ?  "  I  gently  ask  of  the  angler  at  his  task. 

"There's  something  pulling  at  the  line,"  he  says;  "I've  almost 
caught  it ;  " 
But  when,  with  a  blistered  face,  we  our  homeward  steps  retrace, 

We  take  the  little  basket  just  as  empty  as  we  brought  it. 

There  is  a  wonderful,  witching  charm  about  this  little  poem.  It  is 
very  sprightly  in  manner  throughout,  and  is  full  of  nice  points  which 
must  be  brought  out  delicately,  but  clearly.  It  affords  not  only  a 
fine  study,  but  is  an  admirable  recitation.  It  is  really  easier  to  give 
a  "blood  and  thunder"  piece  which  may  have  a  general  expression 
of  noise,  than  a  selection  of  this  kind. 


"This  is  fun,  maybe"  expresses  the  idea  of  the  first  line  in  plain 
prose.  In  the  text  the  words  are  transposed,  but  this  does  not 
change  the  emphasis.     "  Fun  "  should  be   given  with  a  rising  wave 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  43 

of  a  fifth,  and  "  maybe,"  which  is  the  word  that  changes  the  simple 
statement  to  one  of  doubt,  and  is  thereby  used  in  contrast,  with  a 
corresponding  falling  wave.  In  the  last  line  of  the  first  stanza  there 
is  very  marked  compound  stress  on  "delusion."  "That  his  bait 
will  catch  the  fishes  "  is  given  with  a  very  innocent  expression  of 
face  and  voice,  but  is  ended  and  followed  with  light  laughter.  "  'Tis 
romantic"  is  said  with  mock  seriousness  and  much  emphasis,  accom- 
panied by  a  long  sigh  and  followed  with  a  little  shake  of*  the  head. 
"Yes"  is  spoken  solemnly  and  accompanied  by  a  nod  of  acquies- 
cence. "  Confess  "  is  emphasized  by  a  rising  wave,  and  "  shady, 
rooms,  home  "  with  falling.  There  should  be  an  upward  slide  of  a 
fifth  on  "inviting."  "  I  dare  not  move  "  is  given  in  monotone,  with 
slightly  aspirate  coloring.  "  Quiet,  there,"  a  very  gentle  but  decided 
command,  is  given  with  radical  stress  and  prone  hand  extended. 
"Monstrous"  is  given  with  median  stress  to  represent  great  size. 
The  angler  speaks  low  and  cautiously,  however,  so  as  not  to 
frighten  his  prey.  "  Oh,  of  course,  it's  bliss  "  is  given  rapturously, 
but  it  is  followed  by  a  sigh  on  "  still,"  and  a  woeful  tone  on  "  how 
hot  it  is,"  with  marked  final  stress  and  aspirated  tone  on  "  hot." 
There  is  a  slight  indication  of  complaint  as  the  further  discomfort  of 
the  narrator  is  described  by  the  line  "  And  the  rock  I'm  sitting  on 
grows  harder  every  minute."  There  is  a  little  craning  of  the  neck 
as  if  looking  over  into  the  basket  as  she  says,  "  But  the  basket  at  his 
side,  I  see."  There  is  a  rhetorical  pause  after  "  has  "  filled  with  a 
negative  shake  of  the  head  and  continued  as  she  says  "  nothing  in 
it."  There  is  a  delicate  irony  in  the  line  "  It  is  just  the  way  to  pass 
a  July  day."  "  Arcadian  and  sentimental,  dreamy,  idle,  charming  "  is 
given  with  general  drift  of  median  stress.  Quicken  the  time  and 
give  energy  to  the  words  "  But  how  fierce  the  sunlight  falls,"  and 
intensify  much  more  "  and  the  way  that  insect  crawls  along  my  back 
and  down  my  neck."  Pause  slightly  after  "  neck  "  and  emphasize 
"alarming."  "Any  luck?"  is  asked  with  compound  stress  on 
"luck."  Pause  after  "  something,"  quicken  the  time  on  "  pulling  at 
the  line,"  while  intense  hopefulness  is  expressed  on  "  I've  almost 
caught  it."  Emphasize  "  blistered  face "  and  "  steps  retrace." 
Give  in  simple  descriptive  way  "  We  take  the  little  basket,"  pause 
while  the  listeners  wonder  whether  it  is  full  or  otherwise,  and  add 
"just  as  empty,"  with  rising  slide  on  "  just  "  and  "  as,"  and  dis- 
tinctly falling  on  "empty"  and  "brought."  There  will  be  a 
roguish  tone  and  look  as  the  last  few  words  are  spoken,  and  the 
rhythm  of  word,  tone  and  movement  is  completed  by  giving  a 
downward  stroke  with  the  index  finger  of  the  right  hand  on 
"  empty  "  and  "  brought." 


44  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

MRS.    MAGOOGIN    ON    SPRING    BONNETS 
AND  SPRING   POETRY. 


John  J.  Jenkins. 


The  follovving  is  a  very  clever  bit  of  dialect.     To  give  it  well,  use  compound 
stress,  which  is  a  peculiarity  of  the  Irish  brogue,  and  pronounce  the  words  as 


they  are  spelled. 

U  0°  yC  loike  sPrinS  poethry,  Mrs.  McGlaggerty  ?  "  the  widow 

LJ     began. 

"I  nuver  read  it,  Mrs.  Magoogin,"  the  neighbor  replied. 

"  Naither  do  Oi,"  said  the  widow.  "  But  me  daughter,  Toozy, 
goes  into  uxtashies  over  id,  an'  bechuxt  hersel'  an'  her  husband 
Hinnery  they  all  a-mosht  droives  me  crazy  wud  their  shlobberin'  an' 
their  nonsinse." 

"  What's  id  all  about,  annyhow  ?  " 

"About  nawthin'  at  all,"  the  widow  replied.  "  Nawthin'  but 
blyue  berds  singin'  in  the  lane,  an'  flyowers  in  blyoom,  an'  silver 
shtrains,  an'  stars  on  the  moonloight,  an'  all  that  soort  av  rubbish 
that  they  puts  in  bukes  wud  green  covers  an  thim,  an'  goold  an  th' 
inds  av  th'  laives.  To  tell  ye  the  trooth,  Mrs.  McGlaggerty,  the 
shtuff  makes  me  sick,  an'  as  Oi  tells  Toozy  an'  Hinnery,  the  gom- 
machs  that  wroites  that  nonsinse  ought  to  be  pit  in  the  loonyatico 
asoylum,  fwhere  they'll  not  be  let  wroite  anny-  more  av  it.  '  But 
m'mmaw,'  Toozy'll  say  to  me,  '  that's  poethry,  spring  poethry, 
mimmaw  ! '  '  Mebbe  it  is,'  sez  Oi ;  'that  makes  it  no  betther  an'  no 
worse.  Oi'd  suner  have  a  gud  plate  av  corn  beef  an'  cabbage  anny 
day  in  the  wake,'  sez  Oi,  '  than  a  wagon  load  av  it.'  '  Oh,  mim- 
maw ! '  sez  she,  '  Yis,  an'  oh,  mimmaw,'  sez  Oi  '  Ye  don't  mane 
that,'  sez  she.  '  May  the  devil  busht  me  aff  Oi  don't,'  sez  Oi. 
'  Oh,  Moother  Magoogin  !  '  sez  Hinnery.  'An'  oh,  Soon-in-law 
Hinnery,'  sez  Oi.  '  Ye  can't  be  so  Moondane  in  yer  sperrit,'  sez 
he.  '  Can't  Oi  ?  '  sez  Oi ;  '  Oi'll  be  Moondane  an'  Chuesdane  an' 
Winsdane,  too,  aff  Oi  loike,'  sez  Oi,  '  fur  bad  scran  to  th'  dhrop  av 
aijiot'sblud  cooises  in  Berdie  Magoogin's  veins,'  sez  Oi ;  'an'  lish'en, 
Hinnery  Dinkelshpale,  afF  ye  undhertake  to  laive  yer  hair  grow  long 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  45 

an'  make  a  wurthliss,  gud-fur-nawthin'  hairy  owld  poit  av  yersel', 
inshtud  av  shtickin'  to  th'  tobacky  facht'ry,  ye'd  betther  pack  yer 
duds  an'  say  gud-bye  to  this  shanty,'  sez  Oi.  That  shut  himsel'  an' 
Toozy  up  an  th'  poethry  bezniss,  an'  the  nuxt  thing  Oi  knowed  they 
war  havin'  a  pitched  battle  about  a  spring  bonnet.  Toozy  wanted 
wan  thrimmed  in  yally  an'  red,  wud  a  sky-tarrier's  eye  shtickin'  out 
av  a  roseet  in  front,  an'  Hinnery  sed  he  kudn't  affoord  it.  Well, 
Mrs.  McGlaggerty,  Oi'm  glad  that  Oi'm  not  a  s'coiety  belle,  me 
frmd,  to  be  afther  havin'  to  get  a  noo  bonnet  uv'ry  toime  the  sun 
luks  crukked  at  th'  airth.  This  owld  shkoy  shcraper's  gud  enoof  fur 
army  saison,  an'  it  nuvur  goes  out  av  fashion.  Noo  spring  bon- 
nets, indade !  Fwhoy,  it  id  kape  wan  poor  aiven  lukin'  at  them  !  Oi 
don't  know  fwhether  Toozy  brawt  Hinnery  to  toime  or  not,  Mrs. 
McGlaggerty,  but  there's  wan  thing  Oi  kin  tell  ye,  an'  it's  not  two, 
an'  that  is  that  Toozy'll  get  the  noo  bonnet  aff  there's  wan  to  be  had, 
hoigh  or  low,  ur  there'll  be  a  divorsht  bechuxt  the  Dinkelshpales  an' 
the  Magoogins.     Do  ye  moind  that,  Mrs.  McGlaggerty !  " 


JULIET. 


Louis  F.  Austin. 


AND  so  the   new  Juliet  charms  you — her  beauty  has   set  you 
ablaze  ? 
And  were  you  a  critic  (God  save  us!)  what  columns  and  columns  of 

praise  ! 
But  now  you  complain  of  the  scribblers,  whose  spite  is  the  curse  of 

the  press, 
Because  they  seem  eagerly  banning  what  you  are  so  eager  to  bless  ; 
Or  else  they  are  nicely  adjusting  proportions  of  merit  and  blame, 
While  you  want  to  take  a  great  trumpet,  and  fill  all  the  world  with 

her  fame. 

And   this  is  her  picture  ?     Well,  truly,  heaven  favors  so  winning  a 

face ; 
Her  tresses,  you  say,  are  like  sunbeams,  her  figure  a  vision  of  grace; 


46  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

Her  eyes  are  as  wells  in  the  desert  to  travelers  faint  and  forlorn, 
And  love  on  her  lips  has  been  playing  since  sighs  in  her  bosom 

were  born. 
Yet  never  for  me  is  the  glamor  that  makes  your  pulse  hurriedly 

beat  — 
Though  planets  re-echoed  her  praises,  and  the  world  were  a  slave 

at  her  feet, 
/never  could  look  on  your  Juliet — your  homage  could  never  be 

mine, 
For  there  lives  a  dead  face  in  my  memory  that  holds  all  my  soul  in 

its  shrine. 

» 
The  years  have  slipped  by  —  nearly  twenty  —  since  I  saw  in  the 

spring  of  success 
My  Juliet,  happy  and  peerless,  whose  whisper  was  like  a  caress; 
Her  hair  took  its  hue  from  the  woodlands,  when  their  auburn  was 

glinted  with  gold  ; 
Her  eyes  stole  the  dew  from  the  violets,  as  they  slept  in  the  moss 

on  the  wold  ; 
And  even  the  veriest  dullard,  on  whom  fell  that  rapturous  glance, 
Has  felt  all  his  spirit  transfigured  by  love  and  the  glow  of  romance. 

"  Ah,  Romeo,  envied  of  mortals,  leave  idle  lamenting  and  sighs  ! 
Away  from  this  cruel  Verona  you  should  bear  so  precious  a  prize!" 
How  often  like  this  have  I  murmured,  as  night  after  night  in  my 

stall 
I  watched  that  sad  story  unfolding  —  from  the  kiss  in  the  Capulet's 

hall 
To    the   last   and   terrible   meeting,  when    they,  who  bright    paths 

should  have  trod, 
In  death  and  the  grave  were  united,  and  together  ascended  to  God. 

One  night  I  shall  ever  remember,  as  captives  remember  their  chains, 
A  strange  and  subtle  foreboding  ran  icily  cold  through  my  veins, 
When  Juliet,  drinking  the  potion  in  a  frenzy  of  longing  and  dread, 
Imagines  her  solitude  peopled  with  horrible  shapes  of  the  dead  ; 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  47 

And  day  after  day  was  I  haunted  as  if  by  the  coming  of  woe  — 
I  dreamed  of  her  stretched  in  a  charnel,  arrayed  for  some  terrible 

show  ; 
But  still  to  the  world  not  a  shadow  had   darkened  that  splendid 

career  — 
My  Juliet,  happy  and  peerless,  what  evil  to  her  could  be  near? 


'Twas  Paris,  one  morning  in  spring-time,  and  over  the  street's  human 

stream 
Her  radiant  face  for  a  moment  had  passed  like  a  silvery  gleam  ; 
I  thought  of  the  gloomy  foreboding  that  once  through  my  blood 

sent  its  chill, 
And  smiled  at  the  strange  superstition  that  fancied  such  horrible  ill; 
And  all  the  day  longin  the  sunlight  I  mixed  with  the  carnival  throng, 
I  laughed  at    the   gambols    of  children,    I    listened   to   music  and 

song  .  .   . 
What  is  that  ?     A  hush  — then  a  murmur — some  gossip  is  tickling 

the  town  — 
The  last  escapade  of  a  beauty,  a  scandal  that  kills  some  renown  ! 
But,  no ;  it  is   something   that  saddens  this   thoughtless,  mercurial 

mob ; 
Men's  eyes  with  teardrops  are   glistening  —  the  women  beginning 

to  sob. 
What  is  it  ?     "  Ah,  monsieur,  what  pity  !   To  perish  so  young  and 

alone, 
And  lie  in  the  Morgue  like   an  outcast,  to  all  human  kindred  un- 
known !  " 
Who  is  it  ?     "  The  great  English  actress — "  I  paused  not  a  breath 

for  the  name, 
For  horror's  fell  hand  seemed  to  choke  me,  and  my  brain  was  filled 

with  a  flame  ! 
In  the  Morgue  !     My  God,   it  was  true,    then  !     The  fate  of  my 

vision  had  come  ! 
The  dew  had  gone  back  to  the  violets  —  that  voice  so  caressing  was 

dumb  ! 


ETHAN   ALLEN.    (Abridged  and  Adapted.) 

Prof.  George  Lansing  Raymond,  L.  H.  D. 


48  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

And  only  the  light    of  the   woodlands   still  clung  to    that    delicate 

head, 
Like  rays  of  the  bounteous  sunshine  that  play  on  the   vaults  of  the 

dead. 

The  Morgue  !     How  I  reached  it  I  know   not,  but  I  broke  through 

the  curious  crowd, 
Who  shrank  from  me,  pallid  and  startled,  as  if  from   a  ghost   in  a 

shroud  ! 
And  I  found  her,  so  fair  and  so  dainty,  surrounded  by  horrible  clay — 
The  ghastly  account  of  self- slaughter,  the  victim  of  feud  and  affray  ; 
And  here  was  the  clutch  of  the  river,  and  there  was  the  hideous  stab  ! 
Ah,  tragedies  never  were  written  like  those  on  that  sorrowful  slab  ! 

But  oh,  for  the  spirit  so  tender  that  never  again  would  illume 
The  form  that  lay  solemn  and  silent,  forever  bereft  of  its  bloom  ! 
Midst  aliens  mortaliy'stricken,  just  heaven,  'twas  cruel  to  die  — 
No  friend  her  last  look   to   remember,  to  catch   her  last  shuddering 

sigh  ! 
And  now  it  was  only  a  stranger  who  mourned   o'er  that  still  lovely 

face, 
And  kissed  the  cold  hand  of  sweet  Juliet,  as  he  knelt  in  that  heart- 
chilling  place  ! 

The  years  have  gone  by  —  nearly  twenty  — and  yet  all  the  grief  of 

that  scene, 
As  though   it   were   yesterday's   anguish,  still   lives  in  my    memory 

green. 


This  poem  is  full  of  the  fire  of  patriotism ;  and,  while  it  is  always  a  capital  reci- 
tation, it  is  peculiarly  suitable  to  he  given  upon  any  day  of  national  interest  and 
commemoration.  After  the  battle  of  Lexington  the  British  troops,  nicknamed 
"red-coats,"  were  reinforced,  and  the  federals  found  their  munitions  of  war 
insufficient  to  keep  back  the  invading  host.  The  provisional  Assembly  of  Con- 
necticut then  devised  the  plan  of  seizing  Fort  Ticonderoga,  which  was  held  by 
the   British  and  was  known  to  be  well  stored  with  arms.      Eighteen  gallant  men 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  49 

started  out ;  they  were  reinforced  along  the  way  until  when  they  arrived  at  Ben- 
nington the  number  had  reached  forty.  Here  E'han  Allen  joined  them,  and  with 
him  came  one  hundred  Green  Mountain  Boys,  as  the  sons  of  Vermont  were 
called,  and  fifty  men  from  Massachusetts.  Allen  was  unanimously  elected  leader. 
At  Cambridge  and  afterward  at  Ticonderoga,  Arnold  claimed  the  right  to  com- 
mand, but  his  orders  were  not  heeded.  When  opposite  Ticonderoga  the  force 
was  divided  and  detachments  were  sent  in  different  directions  to  capture  all  boats 
which  could  be  found,  while  Allen  and  eighty-three  men  under  cover  of  darkness 
crossed  Lake  Champlain  and  moved  toward  the  fort. 

Just  as  the  day  dawned  the  leader  thus  addressed  his  men  :  "  We  must  quit 
our  pretentions  to  valor,  or  possess  this  fortress  ;  it  is  a  desperate  attempt,  and  I 
do  not  urge  it  contrary  to  will ;  you  who  will  undertake,  voluntarily,  poise  your 
firelocks."  At  the  word  every  gun  was  poised,  and  when  the  command  was 
given  the  American  soldiers  rushed  into  the  fort  and  raised  an  Indian  war-whoop. 
The  British  commander,  De  la  Place,  had  not  yet  risen  from  his  bed  when  Allen 
thundered  at  his  door  :  "  Deliver  the  fort  to  me  instantly."  "  By  what  author- 
ity," asked  the  officer.  "  In  the  name  of  the  great  Jehovah,  and  the  Continental 
Congress,"  was  the  answer.  The  door  was  opened;  and  when  Allen  and  his  men 
were  seen  advancing  with  drawn  swords,  no  more  words  were  wasted.  The 
prisoners  of  war  were  marched  off  to  Hartford,  and  the  American  army  was  en- 
riched by  one  hundred  and  twenty  pieces  of  cannon,  fifty  swivels,  two  ten-inch 
mortars,  ten  tons  of  musket  ball,  three  cart-loads  of  flint,  one  hundred  stand 
of  small  arms  and  ten  casks  of  powder.  To  become  thoroughly  interested 
in  this  poem,-  so  as  to  give  it  with  all  the  power  required,  it  would  be  well  to  read 
the  accounts  given  by  Lossing  and  Bancroft. 

In  order  to  bring  the  poem  to  the  length  of  an  ordinary  recitation,  it  is  very 
much  abridged.     The  last  stanza  is  added  by  the  author  of  this  book. 

rPHE  bell  that  rang  at  Lexington 
1       Had  called  our  men  to  arms; 
And  but  their  wives  and  children,  now, 
Remain'd  to  work  the  farms. 

Begin  the  recitation  with  full  voice,  especially  clear  and  ringing 
on  "  bell,"  which  is  made  emphatic  and  followed  by  a  pause. 
Drop  the  pitch  slightly  at  the  explanatory  and  parenthetic  clause 
"  that  rang  at  Lexington  ;"  dwell  for  an  instant  on  ng  in  "rang," 
after  which  pause  and  then  give  final  stress  (<^)  to  "  Lexington.  " 
Give  staccato  force  to  first  two  and  last  two  words  of  the  second 
line,  principal  emphasis  on  "men  "  and  lesser  on  "arms."  Lower  the 
voice  very  much  for  the  next  two  lines,  and  speak  with  slow  time 
and  tone  somewhat  colored  with  pathos ;  pause  after  "  but,  re- 
mained," lower  the  voice  on  "  now,"  and  make  "  wives,  children, 
work,  farms,"  emphatic. 

Fill'd  full  of  red-coats,  Boston  seero'd, 

They  said,  a  wounded  prey ; 
And  now  drank  in  fresh  draughts  of  blood 

From  fleets  that  fill'd  the  bay. 


50  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

Start  in  with  second  stanza  strongly  emphasizing  "  red-coats." 
Give  downward  slide  on  "  Boston  "  and  upward  on  "  seemed  ;"  the 
parenthetic  phrase  "  they  said  "  is  read  with  lower  voice  and  quicker 
time.  Give  an  upward  wave  of  a  fifth  with  a  slight  tremulous  stress 
on  "wounded,"  and  let  the  voice  drop  on  "prey"  which  is  made 
emphatic.  By  properly  grouping  the  words  in  the  third  and 
fourth  lines  and  separating  by  pauses,  we  have  ".and  now  drank  in 
fresh  draughts  of  blood  from  fleets  that  filled  the  bay." 
"  Draughts  "  is  made  quite  emphatic. 

To  check  their  march,  our  earth-works  still 

Like  mushrooms  grew  by  night ; 
But,  if  attack'd,  our  men  would  not 

Have  arms  with  which  to  fight. 

The  third  stanza  is  introduced  by  a  parenthetic  phrase  with  em- 
phasis on  "check"  and  "march."  "Earthworks,"  which  is  the 
subject  of  the  sentence,  is  made  emphatic  and  followed  by  a  pause, 
while  "  mushrooms,"  which  describes  the  rapidity  with  which  the 
earth-works  were  thrown  up,  is  given  with  much  greater  emphasis,  it 
being  the  rising  wave  of  a  fifth.  Emphasis  is  given  to  "attack'd," 
with  rising  slide  on  "  our"  and  falling  on  "  men,"  rising  on  "would 
not  have  "  and  falling  on  "  arms,"  with  rhetorical  pauses  after 
"  arms  "  and  "  which." 

At  Hartford  our  Assembly  was, 

And  heard  this  ;  nor  in  vain 
But  started  men  for  arms  that  stock'd 

The  fort  on  Lake  Champlain. 

"  Our  Assembly  was  at  Hartford,"  is  the  plain  prose  of  the  first  line ; 
and  "  Assembly  "  and  "  Hartford  "  are  emphasized.  The  rising  inflec- 
tion is  given  to  "  heard  "and  the  fallingto  "  this;"  "  vain  "is  decidedly 
emphatic.  As  there  was  not  a  moment  to  be  lost,  quick  time  is 
given  to  the  third  line,  "  But  started  men  for  arms;"  emphasize 
•'  arms  "  and  "  fort."  Read  "  Lake  Champlain  "  as  if  the  words 
were  spoken  in  answer  to  the  question,  "  where  was  the  fort  ?  " 

These  passed  to  Pittsfield,  there  were  joined 

By  Easton,  Brown,  and  more ; 
Then  on  to  Bennington,  and  there 

Could  muster  full  two  score. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  51 

"  Pittsfield,  Easton,  Brown,  more,  Bennington  "  are  emphatic,  the 
great  force  being  given  to  "  Pittsfield  "  and  "  Bennington."  "  Could 
muster  full — ,"  make  pause  as  if  the  listener  would  wait  breathlessly 
for  the  number,  and  then  add  with  clear  voice,  "  two  score." 

The  sun  that  dawn'd  before  them  here, 

And  brought  them  help  indeed, 
Was  Ethan  Allen's  sword,  that  flash'd 

His  mountain  troops  to  lead. 

What  was  "  the  sun  that  dawned  before  them  and  brought  them 
help?"  It  "was  Ethan  Allen's  sword."  What  word  answers  to  the 
place  of  where  this  took  place?  "Here."  What  kind  of  help? 
"  Help  indeed,"  meaning  valuable  help.  What  did  Ethan  Allen's 
sword  do  ?  It  "  flashed."  For  what  purpose  ?  To  lead  his 
troops.  What  troops  ?  "  His  mountain  troops."  If  the  above 
stanza  is  given  as  if  all  these  questions  had  been  asked  and 
answered,  the  correct  rendering  will  be  given.  "  Ethan  Allen's 
sword"  is  the  principal  word  of  value;  "flashed"  should  be  given 
quickly,  with  final  stress. 

And  thick  as  rills  that  rift  in  spring, 

Each  bond  the  sun  destroys, 
Came  pouring  over  all  those  hills — 

His  grand  Green  Mountain  Boys. 

Who  came  over  the  hills  ?  The  "  Green  Mountain  Boys." 
What  was  the  character  of  these  "  Boys  ?  "  They  were  "  grand." 
Dwell  upon  this  word  as  if  you  admire  and  honor  the  men  to  whom 
it  is  applied.  How  did  they  come  ?  "  Pouring  over  (the)  hills." 
Give  the  first  two  lines  of  this  stanza  with  quick  time,  and  bring  out 
the  last  line  as  if  paying  noble  tribute  to  every  son  of  Vermont. 

Ere  long,  a  shout  went  ringing  out, 

For  all  had  made  their  choice, 
And  all  had  chosen  Allen  chief; 

And  "  Forward  !  "  called  his  voice. 

"  Ere  long  "  is  parenthetic  ;  give  "  shout "  explosively,  with  bell- 
like tone  on  "  ringing  out."  The  words  of  value  in  second  line  are 
"  all "  and  "  choice  ;"  in  the  third  "  all  "  and  "  Allen."  Pause  after 
"  Allen ;  "  while  there  is  a  rest  of  the  voice,  the  mind  supplies  the 
thought  which  fills  the  ellipsis,  thus,  "  Allen  (for  the)  chief."  The 
office   is    accepted,  and   his   first  word  in  the  military  command, 


52  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

"  Forward  !  "  is  given  with  a  tone  which  in  itself  denotes  the  leader's 
power. 

Three  days  they  tramped,  then  Allen  said : 

"  We  near  the  lake,  I  see  ; 
Let  some  go  north  and  some  go  south, 

And  some  straight  on  with  me." 

This  opens  in  simple  descriptive  style.  "  Then  Allen  said "  is 
parenthetic;  resume  the  tone  on  "  We  near  the  lake."  "I  see"  is 
also  parenthetic.  Emphasize  "some  north,"  "some  south,"  giving 
upward  inflection  to  "  north  "  and  downward  to  "  south  "  as  the  words 
are  in  contrast.  In  the  last  line  emphasize  "  some,"  pause  after,  and 
read  "  straight  on  "  with  strong  force ;  pause  after  "  on  "  and  quicken 
time  on  "with  me." 

A  few  there  were  could  cross  at  last ; 

Alas,  but  all  too  few  ! 
Night  sped,  and  Allen,  by  the  fort, 

Could  count  scarce  eighty-two. 

Read  the  first  line  as  if  regretting  that  the  number  were  not  more, 
and  take  tone  of  unmistakable  sadness  on  "Alas !  "  which  is  given 
tremulously  with  falling  slide;  "but  all  too  few"  presents  a  very  dis- 
couraging idea,  and  should  be  given  pathetically.  The  rising  in- 
flection is  given  to  "  night,"  and  falling  to  "  sped."  "Allen  could 
count  eighty-two  "  is  the  sentence.  Read  the  number  as  if  it  repre- 
sented but  a  handful  of  men.  Show  by  the  tone  that  you  regret 
there  were  no  more. 

You  will  be  glad  that  the  hero  of  Ticonderoga  is  equal  to  the 
emergency,  as  we  learn  in  the  following  : 

"  My  men,"  he  muttered,  "look,  the  dawn  ! 

Before  can  cross  the  lake 
One  boat  again,  for  other  men, 

The  day  in  full  will  break. 

The  faint  streak  of  day  gilds  the  eastern  horizon.  Allen  stretches 
out  his  arm  and  with  his  hand  describes  the  outline,  as  with  a  quick, 
explosive  utterance  he  cries  "  look,  the  dawn  !  "  Give  quick  time 
on  second  and  third  lines,  and  emphasize  "day "and  "full"  in 
fourth  line. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  53 

"  Yet  note  the  wall.     You  know  it  well 

Ten  times  our  force,  if  seen,        ( 
Though  clad  in  mail,  could  never  scale 

Those  cannon  thick  between. 

He  points  now  to  the  fort  and  says,  "  Yet  note  the  wall."  The 
remainder  of  the  line  is  spoken  rapidly.  "Ten  times"  is  very 
emphatic  ;  "  our  "  is  given  with  inverted  wave,  and  "  force  "  with 
direct  wave ;  "  if  seen,"  though  parenthetic,  is  given  much  value. 
"  Ten  times  our  force  (even)  though  clad  in  mail, — "  this  last 
word  is  made  very  emphatic,  as  is  also  "  could  never  scale,"  with 
especial  force  given  by  the  inverted  wave  on  "  never  "  and  direct 
on  "scale."  In  the  last  line  "  cannon  "  is  emphatic.  The  word 
"  thick  "  is  spoken  as  if  the  balls  were  so  near  each  other  that  it 
would  be  almost  impossible  to  get  between  them. 

"  Now  quick,  but  quiet ;  start  with  steel ; 

Nor  fire  till  sure  to  hit. 
First  through  the  gate,  if  through  we  may, 

If  not,  then  over  it. 

All  depends  upon  stealing  on  the  enemy  while  they  are  asleep, 
and  if  this  is  done  no  time  can  be  lost.  He  looks  into  the  eager 
faces  of  his  men  and  gives  the  command,  "  Now  quick,  but  quiet." 
They  are  to  go  with  sword  in  hand,  and  are  commanded  not  to  "  fire 
till  sure  to  hit."  Emphasize  "  quick,  quiet,  start,  steel,  fire,  sure, 
hit."  In  third  line,  emphasize  "  through  the  gate."  "  If  through  we 
may "  is  given  lower ;  pause  after  "  if  not,"  and  make  "  over " 
emphatic. 

"  I  lead,  you  follow.     Should  I  fall, 

Move  on ;  my  corpse  may  give 
At  least  a  vantage  ground  !     Move  on  ! 

The  cause,  it  is,  must  live  !  " 

"  I  lead,  you  follow ;  "  all  words  are  emphatic,  rising  inflection  on 
"  lead,"  falling  on  "  follow,"  with  gesture  indicating  the  direction  to 
be  taken.  "  Should  I  fall, — "  there  is  no  time  for  sighing  over  such 
a  possibility,  and  he  does  not  dwell  upon  the  idea.  With  heroic 
courage  he  cries,  "  Move  on."  Give  this  as  with  an  unflinching 
resolution  at  whatever  cost  to  gain  the  day.  You  may  stand  upon 
my  dead  body  if  need  be.  Make  second  "  Move  on"  much  more 
emphatic  than  the  first.  With  all  the  patriotism  you  can  summon, 
say,  "  The  cause,  it  is,  must  live." 


54  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

Swift,  one  by  one,  by  Allen  led, 

They  plung'd  along  the  gloom ; 
No  fear  of  those  who,  just  beyond, 

Might  make  the  place  their  tomb. 

Very  quick  time  should  be  given  the  first  line,  with  staccato  on 
"one  by  one.''  The  movement  made  by  the  men  is  indicated  by 
the  word  "plunged,"  which  is  emphatic.  In  third  line  "fear" 
should  have  a  slide  of  a  fifth,  and  gesture  should  be  made  on  "just 
beyond."  Group  the  words  and  separate  by  pauses,  "  Might 
make  |  the  place  |  their  tomb." 

At  last,  uploomed  in  dusky  light, 

And  choking  all  the  way, 
A  man  who  poised  his  bayonet 

To  hold  them  all  at  bay. 

As  they  enter  the  fort  they  are  stopped  by  a  sentinel. 

"  Take  heed  !  "  he  called.     "  We  take  it,  man," 

Hiss'd  Allen,  where  he  sped  ; 
Whose  clashing  sword  had  glanced  the  gun, 

And  gash'd  the  soldier's  head. 

"  Take  heed  "  the  sentinel  calls  with  bayonet  pointed  at  the  in- 
truders. "  We  take  it,  man  "  was  the  answer.  .  Make  this  very 
emphatic;  paint  the  word  "hissed"  slightly;  "where  he  sped  "  is 
given  in  quick  time.  We  learn  in  the  last  two  lines  that  Allen's 
sword  had  parried  the  gun  and  "gashed  the  soldier's  head  ;  "  s'h  in 
"  gashed  "  should  be  given  with  force,  as  it  colors  the  word  ;  empha- 
size "soldier's  head." 

"  Have  mercy  !  "  groan'd  the  wounded  wretch. 

Said  Allen  :  "  Drop  your  gun. 
Hist,  hist  my  men  !   we're  in  the  fort, 

Now  seize  the  barracks — run  !  " 

The  wounded  sentinel  in  pleading  tone  and  attitude  cries  "  Have 
mercy,"  and  for  answer  hears  the  order  from  Allen,  "  Drop  your  gun." 
This  order  must  not  be  given  loudly,  but  its  dreadful  distinctness 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  55 

should  leave  no  doubt  of  the  necessity  of  obeying  it.  They  are 
now  in  the  fort  and  greater  secrecy  must  be  observed.  "  Hist  !  hist 
my  men  "  is  given  in  distinct  whisper,  as  is  the  whole  of  the  last  line. 
Make  a  movement  of  caution  with  the  hand  extended  prone  and 
waved  slightly  upon  "hist,  hist,"  and  a  vigorous  passage  of  the  arm 
and  hand  on  "  run." 

No  need  to  bid  them  !   In  a  trice 

Our  boys  have  crown'd  their  race, 
And  closed,  with  shouts  like  thousands  round, 

The  soldiers'  sleeping  place. 

At  the  command  the  men  rush  in.  No  need  of  silence  now.  The 
Indian  war-whoop  given  with  a  will  by  eighty  men  seemed  to  the 
red-coats,  so  suddenly  waked  from  sleep,  to  come  from  a  thousand 
lusty  throats. 

Meantime,  "  The  captain  !  "  Allen  cried  ; 

And  scarce  the  word  had  said, 
Ere  on  a  door  he  pounded  loud 

To  rouse  his  foe  from  bed. 

"  The  Captain  "  is  spoken  with  very  quick  and  emphatic  tone. 
"Allen  cried  "  is  parenthetic.  "And  scarce  the  word  had  said"  is 
given  with  quick  time  and  in  a  monotone.  Emphasize  "  door, 
pounded,  loud,  rouse,  foe,  bed." 

"  Surrender  !  "  order'd  Allen  then  ; 

"  If  not,  by  Him  on  high, 
Your  garrison  —  without  a  hope 

For  quarter  from  us — die  !  " 

"  Surrender  "  is  given  in  loud,  commanding  tone  and  is  followed 
by  a  threat — ,  "  If  not,  by  Him  on  high,  your  garrison  (shall)  die." 
These  last  two  words  are  made  very  emphatic.  Make  long  pause 
before  "  die  "  and  the  intensity  is  increased. 

The  Captain's  anger  now  had  burst 

The  spell  of  night's  repose. 
"  Surrender  ?  "  hiss'd  he — then  turn'd  pale 

To  hear  those  shouts  that  rose. 


56  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

"  Surrender  ?  "  should  be  given  very  emphatically  with  compound 
stress.  The  surprised  captain  starts  in  bravely  enough,  but  turns 
pale  as  he  hears  the  shouts  of  the  invaders. 

"And  who  are  you  ?  "  he  stammer'd  out, 

"And  whose  is  this  ado  ? 
And  whose  the  name  in  which  you  come, 

And  bid  us  yield  to  you?  " 

He  weakens  in  spirit  but  goes  on  as  bravely  as  he  can.  Emphasize 
"  who,  you,  whose,  ado,  whose,  name,  which,  come,  bid,  yield,  you." 

"  The  name  of  great  Jehovah,  man," 

Said  Allen,  drawing  nigh, 
"And  the  Continental  Congress  !  "  while 

Defiance  fired  his  eye. 

The  answer  of  the  hero  of  Ticonderoga  is  known  to  every  Ameri- 
can, and  there  is  not  a  man  who  is  not  proud  of  it.  The  expression 
of  figure  and  the  tone  of  voice  is  commanding  in  the  highest  degree. 
Give  force  to  "  name  "  and  pause  after  it.  Make  "  great  Jehovah  " 
very  emphatic.  "  Said  Allen,  drawing  nigh,"  is  explanatory  and  pai- 
enthetic,  and  is  low  and  quick.  Now  ring  out  "  Continentai 
Congress,"  as  if  gathering  all  the  nations  of  the  world  in  one  ami 
speaking  for  them  all.  Give  final  stress  on  "  defiance"  and  staccato 
movement  on  "  fired  his  eye." 

The  day  was  won  ;   the  garrison 

Filed  out  across  the  green, 
More  general  welcome  when  they  came 

I  think  was  seldom  seen. 

"  The  day  was  won."  It  is  a  simple  statement,  but  should  be 
given  as  if  the  information  was  of  great  value.  Now  you  see  ;1il- 
poor,  crestfallen  garrison  as  they  "filed  out  across  the  green.' 
"  Welcome  "  is  emphatic.  The  last  two  lines  are  given  with  < 
merry  twinkle  of  the  eye,  and  a  general  expression  of  satisfactioi 
over  the  victory. 

Ten  score  of  cannon,  mounds  of  flint, 

And  tons  of  guns  and  balls  — 
We  waited  weeks  to  find  the  means 

To  cart  them  out  the  walls. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  57 

Make  much  of  the  munitions  of  war  which  were  captured,  by 
giving  full  emphasis  to  "  ten  score  of  cannon,  mounds  of  flint.'' 
Speak  of  "  mounds  "  as  if  they  were  many  and  of  great  size.  The 
last  two  lines  should  be  given  laughingly,  emphasizing  "  weeks,  cart, 
walls." 

Go  search  those  mountain  woods 

And  valleys,  humbly  trod 
By  souls  whose  simple  faith  holds  on 

To  country,  home,  and  God. 

The  words  of  value  are  "  search,  woods,  valleys,  humbly,  trod, 
souls,  faith,  country,  home,  God." 

Ask  whom  they  love,  whom  they  revere, 

And  all  with  one  acclaim 
Will  swell  the  chorus  long  and  loud 

Of  Ethan  Allen's  name. 

Words  of  value  — ,  "  whom,  love,  whom,  revere,  all,  acclaim,  swell, 
chorus,  long,  loud."  As  "  Ethan  Allen's  name  "  is  spoken,  there 
should  be  a  movement  of  the  arm  in  spiral  gesture,  as  if  you  were 
giving  a  cheer  and  with  a  will.  If  you  end  in  this  exultant  manner 
you  will  have  your  audience  in  such  full  sympathy,  that  you  will 
doubtless  be  greeted  with  well-deserved  applause. 


EASTER   IN   A  HOSPITAL    BED. 


Nym  Crinkle. 


Imagine  the  scene.      Feel  for  the  sufferer.      When  you  read  the  sketch,  try  to 
make  your  audience  see  and  feel. 


The  beat  of  the  village  church  bell  in  A  minor  brought  magical 
pictures  to  the  memory  of  "  No.  106,"  and  she  passed  through  the 
gates  of  death  dreaming  that  she  breathed  the  odor  of  lilacs. 
t/  *     *     * 

NUMBER  106"  must  have  been  a  beautiful  woman  once. 
You  could  see  sad  traces  of  loveliness  in  her  wrecked  face, 
lying  there  only  a  trifle  less  blanched  than  the  pillow,  and  framed  in 
by  brown  hair  that  reached  out  upon  the  linen  like  running  vines 


58  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

The  shadows  under  her  big  brown  eyes  were  ominous,  but  the  curve 
of  her  splendid  mouth  had  not  been  destroyed  by  the  lines  of  pain. 
She  looked  up  wearily  as  the  doctor  passed  her,  and  with  just  the 
faintest  interest  in  the  matter  said,  in  a  weak  and  slightly  husky 
voice  that  must  once  have  been  a  rich  contralto  : 

"  What  day  is  this  ?  " 

The  doctor  turned  as  he  went  by  and  replied  : 

"  Sunday.      Easter  Sunday  !  " 

"  One  hundred  and  six  "  opened  her  eyes  a  little  at  the  reply. 
Her  conception  of  time  had  been  confused  by  six  weeks  on  that 
bed.  The  only  events  that  had  come  to  her  were  in  the  shape  of 
nurses  and  doctors.  She  had  a  vague  sense  that  just  beyond  that 
window,  which  this  morning  was  pulled  down  to  let  in  the  soft 
spring  air,  there  was  a  big,  flowing  river.     The  rest  was  uncertain. 

Easter  Sunday  made  her  wonder.  The  two  words  somehow  con- 
nected themselves  with  the  soft  air  that  came  in  at  the  window. 
"  Easter  Sunday  "  she  repeated  several  times  inaudibly,  as  if  trying 
to  put  her  emotions  into  some  kind  of  intelligible  form. 

The  inner  necromancy  of  association  began  to  work  its  mystic 
spell.  It  was  so  still  there  in  the  "  hopeless  ward  "  that  every  outer 
sound  came  in  clearly  defined  on  that  pulse  of  spring  air.  And 
then  her  senses  were  strangely  sharpened.  Something  whipped  her 
back  over  the  years  and  held  her  close  against  the  blossomy  long- 
ago,  gently  and  firmly.  She  heard  the  voices  on  the  river;  how 
dewy  and  mellow  they  sounded ;  but  they  seemed  to  come  across 
the  old  meadow.  She  heard  the  flutter  and  chirp  of  the  sparrows 
round  the  casement,  but  they  were  the  swallows  round  that  little 
garret  window  of  hers,  where  the  honeysuckle  hung  thick  and  the 
yellow  jackets  buzzed  and  droned,  and  where  she  so  often  sat  and 
dreamed  the  dream  of  love  and  hope. 

All  the  actual  details  of  the  cold,  inevitable  present  melted  into 
the  sunshiny  past.  A  barrel-organ  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood 
was  piping  "  Annie  Laurie."  The  cadences  came  in  little  elfin 
echoes,  strangely  inwrought  with  a  sad,  far-away  perfume.  She 
dropped  her  eyelids  half  way,  and  pillowed  herself  on  the  reverie. 
She  could  hear  Molly  calling  her  from  the  little  parlor  downstairs  ; 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  59 

the  mystic  sounds  of  the  barrel-organ  got  to  be  the  tones  of  the  old 
melodeon  that  stood  in  the  parlor,  and  Molly's  voice  accompanied 
it  as  she  practiced  the  Easter  anthem. 

"Are  you  coming,  Jen  ?   we  shall  be  late." 

How  inexpressibly  familiar  and  dear  the  sister's  words  were  now, 
Just  then  the  clang  of  a  church  bell  mingled  with  the  spring  sounds. 
It  was  a  clear  A  minor,  with  a  little  tremolo  in  it. 

With  her  white  face  turned  toward  the  window  and  the  light, 
impassively,  her  soul /was  traveling  over  the  country  roads.  Mar- 
velous how  she  saw  every  rock  and  tree  that  was  associated  with  an 
emotion  !  She  got  over  the  stile  and  Seth  Purdy's  stone  fence,  and 
caught  her  dress  in  the  old  spike  that  had  been  used  to  mend  the 
steps — just  as  she  must  have  done  before  at  some  time.  And  Molly 
laughed  at  her  distress.  She  ran  down  the  juniper  lane  in  Squire 
Burchard's  timber,  because  her  heart  was  too  full  to  walk.  She  saw 
the  same  hermit  thrush  in  her  pathway.  She  smelt  the  balm  of 
Gilead  again.  She  noticed  the  flushed  little  rivers  in  the  meadow, 
brimming  with  the  melted  snows;  she  went  up  the  rise  to  the  little 
church  with  her  heart  singing.  Once  more  she  was  sitting  in  the 
choir.  Once  more  the  kindly  faces  were  round  her.  There  was 
the  open  window,  and  she  could  look  down  upon  the  old  graveyard 
tangled  with  blackberry  vines.  How  calm  and  restful  it  all  seemed. 
The  April  sun  was  lying  upon  it  once  more,  and  the  sap  was  stirring, 
and  the  lilacs  budding  and  the  bees  astir.  Under  it  all  and  over  it 
all  a  girl's  innocence  and  health,  and  the  glorious  sunshine  of  prom 
ises  and  possibilities.  Love  in  the  service  and  in  the  long  walk 
home.  Somebody  handsome,  gentle  and  hopeful,  trembling  at  her 
touch,  and  the  brookslsinging  madrigals  for  them,  and  the  hemlocks 
waving  triumphant  plumes  for  them,  and  the  little  community 
smiling  on  them. 

Still  the  beat  of  that  bell  in  A  minor.  It  was  like  a  crystal  of 
sound — so  clear  and  so  full  of  magical  pictures.  She  was  standing 
at  the  altar  in  that  little  church.  Jack  had  hold  of  her  hand,  and 
she  felt  his  tremble.  She  could  hear  Molly's  voice  in  the  choral 
hymn  ring  out  above  all  the  rest  as  they  walked  down  the  aisle — 
married. 


6o  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

All  the  dark  years  that  came  afterward  in  the  torrent  of  time 
seemed  now  to  settle  out  of  sight  in  this  still  pool  of  retrospection. 
Her  consciousness  was  pulsing  in  A  minor.  Something  of  the 
regenerative  power  of  the  spring  penetrated  her  heart.  There  had 
been  a  mistake  somewhere.  She  would  not  have  the  ghost  of 
reality — the  only  real  thing  was  that  jubilant  present  into  which  she 
had  lapsed,  with  its  glad  bell  summoning  her.  «^ 

"I  must  get  well,"  she  murmured.  "The  earth  is  astir.  It's 
wicked  to  be  lying  here.  Do  you  hear  that  bell  ?  It  is  the  voice 
of  the  spring  calling  me.  I  was  born  in  April.  I  was  married  in 
April.  I'm  coming,  Molly.  Put  the  flowers  on  the  mantel;  they're 
Jack's  flowers.  Dear  Jack,  I  knew  you'd  come  back  when  I  heard 
the  bell.  Oh,  Jack,  I'm  so  tired  of  lying  here.  If  you  only  knew 
how  I  ache  and  how  these  people  look  at  me  you'd  come  and  take 
me  away.  Don't  you  remember  how  you  carried  me  over  the  Saw- 
mill river  on  the  stones  ?  Dear  Jack,  I've  remembered  every  word 
you  said  to  me.  You  thought  I  didn't,  but  I  did.  Don't  you  know 
what  you  said  when  we  got  back  from  the  church  ?  '  My  darling, 
I've  got  you  now,  and  if  love  is  strength  I'm  going  to  keep  you  for 
all  eternity.'     Can't  you  turn  me  over  so  I  can  see  your  face  ?  " 

The  young  doctor  who  was  standing  at  the  bedside  laid  his  book 
down  and  put  his  arm  under  her.     It  wasn't  done  very  tenderly. 

She  made  a  weak  clutch  at  him.  "  Oh,  Jack,  you  hurt  me.  I'm 
awfully  sore.  Don't  look  at  me  that  way.  I'll  pick  up.  It's  only 
my  sickness.  I  feel  better  to-day.  Do  you  hear  that  bell  ? — hark  ! 
You'll  have  to  hurry,  Jack.  We'll  be  late,  and  Molly's  so  partic- 
ular. You'll  be  patient  with  me,  won't  you  ?  My  head  falls  over, 
on  my  breast. 

"  Molly,"  she  went  on,  in  a  husky  whisper,  and  with  that  confu- 
sion of  identities  that  is  a  characteristic  of  the  suspension  of  volition 
— "  Molly,  Jen's  all  right,  poor  thing.  She  ought  to  have  her  hair 
dressed,  though.  It's  a  shame  to  have  her  lying  there  in  that  con- 
dition. You  know  Jack's  coming,  and — don't  you  hear  the  bell  ? — 
listen  !  We  must  get  her  up."  Then  a  moment  later,  and  almost 
inaudibly — "  It's  the  lilacs,  Jack.  I'm  going  to  take  them  to  the 
church.     You  shall  carry  them.     What  a  strange  odor  they  have 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  61 

this  year — it  almost — it  takes  one's  breath  away — but — I  am 
happy." 

Ten  minutes  later  some  one  lifted  her  head  and  looked  at  her  ; 
then  he  let  it  fall  back  on  the  pillow.  Friendless,  helpless  and 
alone,  she  had  gone  through  the  gates  of  death. 

As  this  poor,  worn  body  was  moved  from  the  narrow  bed  the  bells 
were  pouring  their  Easter  clamor  through  the  window.  It  was  the 
same  A  minor.  In  it  the  promise  of  resurrection,  but  also  some- 
thing of  the  threnody  of  life.  /LyjcJl  i 


THE  PRESS  EVANGEL. 


John  Boyle  O'Reilly. 


Mr.  O'Reilly  writes  from  a  full  mind,  and  is  not  forced  to  substitute  sound  for 
sense.  We  have  no  need  to  ask  why  his  poem  was  written,  and  are  not  forced  to 
question  whether  it  means  anything.  Expiring  flames  and  soft  wax  lights  have 
made  latter-day  poetry  pitiful  and  petty.  We  are  glad  to  see  occasionally  one 
poet  who  is  troubled  by  a  plethora  rather  than  a  dearth  of  thought.  The  typical 
latter-day  versifier  is  not  plagued  by  thick-crowding  fancies. 


GOD'S  order,  "  Light"  when  all  was  void  and  dark, 
Brought  mornless  noon,  a  flame  without  a  spark. 
A  gift  unearned,  that  none  may  hold  or  hide, 
An  outer  glory,  not  an  inner  guide  ; 
But  flamed  no  star  in  heaven  to  light  the  soul 
And  lead  the  wayward  thought  toward  Freedom's  goal. 

O  wasted  ages  !     Whither  have  you  led 
The  breeding  masses  for  their  daily  bread  ? 
Engendered  serfs,  across  a  world  of  gloom, 
The  wavelike  generations  reach  the  tomb. 
Masters  and  lords,  they  feared  a  lord's  decree, 
Nor  freedom  knew  nor  truth  to  make  them  free. 

But  hark  !   A  sound  has  reached  the  servile  herd! 
Strong  brows  are  raised  to  catch  the  passing  word ; 


62  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

From  mouth  to  mouth,  a  common  whisper  flies; 
A  wildfire  message  burns  on  lips  and  eyes ; 
Far  oft"  and  near  the  kindred  tidings  throng  — 
How  hopes  come  true,  how  heroes  challenge  wrong; 
Hon  men  have  rights  above  all  law's  decrees; 
How  weak  ones  rise  and  sweep  the  thrones  like  seas! 
Behold  !  The  people  listen  —  question  !  Then 
The  inner  light  has  come  —  the  boors  are  men  ! 

What  read  ye  here  —  a  dreamer's  idle  rule  ? 

A  swelling  pedant's  lesson  for  a  school  ? 

Nay,  here  no  dreaming,  no  delusive  charts ; 

But  common  interests  for  common  hearts ; 

A  Truth,  a  Principle  —  beneath  the  sun 

One  vibrant  throb  —  men's  rights  and  wrongs  are  one; 

One  heart's  small  keyboard  touches  all  the  notes; 

One  weak  one's  cry  distends  the  million  throats  ; 

Nor  race  nor  nation  bounds  the  human  kind  — 

White,  yellow,  black  —  one  conscience  and  one  mind  ! 

How  spread  the  doctrine?  See  the  teachers  fly  — 
The  printed  messages  across  the  sky 
From  land  to  land  as  never  birds  could  wing ; 
With  songs  of  promise  birds  could  never  sing; 
With  mighty  meanings  clearing  here  and  there  ; 
With  nation's  greetings  kings  could  never  share; 
With  new  communions  whispering  near  and  far; 
With  gathering  armies  bent  on  peace,  not  war; 
With  kindly  judges  reading  righteous  laws ; 
With  strength  and  cheer  for  every  struggling  cause, 

Roll  on,  O  cylinders  of  light,  and  teach 
The  helpless  myriads,  tongue  can  never  reach. 
Make  men,  not  masses  ;  pulp  and  mud  unite  — 
The  single  grain  of  sand  reflects  the  light. 
True  freedom  makes  the  individual  free  ; 
And  common  law  for  all  makes  Liberty  ! 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  63 

A  VERY   BAD   CASE. 


F.    H.    Stauffer. 


Recitation   for  a  very  little  girl    who  should    have  a  doll  in  hand.     There   is 
an  expression  of  mock  sadness,  which  is  kept  up  until  the  last  line  is  given. 

T  T  7HAT  is  it  ails  my  dollie  dear  ? 

Somebody  asks  her  the  question,  which  she  repeats  in  a  doleful 
tone.     Give  compound  stress  on  "  ails." 

I'm  not  quite  sure  I  know. 

Shakes  her  head  slowly  and  sadly.     Upward  inflection  on  "  sure  " 
and  "  I,"  and  falling  on  "  know." 

She's  very  sick  [emphasis  on  "  very  "], 
[  Weeping\  and  if  she  dies 
'Twill  be  a  fearful  blow. 

She's  got  "  ammonia  "  in  her  lungs, 
"  Plumbago  "  in  her  back, 
A  "tepid  "  liver,  and  a  cough 
That  keeps  her  on  the  rack." 

Give   final  stress  on  "  ammonia,  lungs,    plumbago,    back,  liver, 
cough." 

She's  got  an  "  ulster  "  in  her  throat, 
And  "  bunions  "  on  her  hand  ; 
Her  skull  is  pressing  on  her  brain — 
'Twill  have  to  be  "  japann'd." 

Give'  final    stress    on     "ulster,     throat,     bunions,    hand,     skull, 
I  brain,  japann'd." 

I  think  \sighing]  I'll  send  for  Doctor  Jones, 
And  Doctors  Price  and  Bell  ; 
They'll  hold  a  "  consolation  "  then, 
And  maybe  [nodding]  she'll  get  well. 

Rising  slide  of  a  fifth  on  "consolation,"  yet  very  pathetic.     Last 
line  read  in  a  sprightly  way,  with  smiling  face. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 
CHARLIE. 


Fanny  Foster  Clark. 


'"INHERE  were  four  lads  of  us  an'  a  lattle  lass.  I  war  yoongest  of 
1  'em  and  Charlie — Charlie  was  t'  oldest.  They  warn't  rich  folk 
feytlier  and  moother,  but  decent  an'  doin'  their  best  by  us  yoong  uns! 
Soomtimes  i'  t'  soomer  holidays  we  got  leave  to  go  oot  i'  feyther's 
skiff.  We  war  all  boorn  sailors  —  a'  t'  lads  be  along  thot  coost. 
One  broight  day,  I  remember  it  weel,  t'  sea  blue  and  clear  loike  a 
precious  stone,  t'  sun  shone,  t'  breeze  war  loight,  an'  moother  kissed 
us  four  lads  good-by.  I  war  aboot  six  year  old.  Frank  Avar  nine, 
the  lass  bidin'  at  whoam  coom  atween  us  two.  Thin  Jamie  war 
just  eleven  an'  Charlie  war  oopards  o'  twelve.  A  slender  lad  he 
war,  wi'  fair  hair,  as  moother  made  him  wear  longish  in  his  neck. 
His  eyes  war  big,  gray  eyes,  sad  and  deep  loike,  an'  t'  mouth  of — 
weel,  lattle  seester's  was  no  prattier.  But  Charlie  war  a  strong  chap, 
too  ;  breave  an'  weel-grown.     Moother  kissed  him  last. 

"  Good-by  my  lattle  captain,"  said  she,  "  moind  that  Ned  cooms  to 
no  harm."  Then  she  gives  me  a  cake  an'  ar  buries  it  in  my  pocket 
— for  later  eatin'. 

"  Doantee  fear,  moother,"  says  Charlie,  "  Ned  gets  no  harm  wi' 
me.     Coom  along,  babby." 

I  war  six  year  old  an'  deadn't  loike  bein'  called  babby,  but  t' 
moother  laughed  a'  standin'  in  the  doorway  as  we  got  intir  t'  boat. 
Charlie  stood  oop  aft  as  we  sailed  away  an'  waved  his  hat  to  her, 
whoile  she  shaded  her  eyes  to  see  him  the  betther.  Lattle  lad  as  I 
were  I  knowed  moother's  eyes  war  red  as  she  turned  back  intir  t' 
hoose,  though  I  knew,  too,  that  she  war  smilin'.  I  think  a  mooth- 
er's smile  over  her  yoong  children  have  a'ways  a  tear  in  hidin'. 

"  Lads,"  says  Charlie,  "  lets  go  to  t'  cliffs  for  eggs." 

"  Ey,  ey,"  says  Frank  and  Jamie,  "but  Ned  must  bide  below  — 
he  be  too  lattle  to  climb." 

I  war  put  oot  at  this,  an'  said  I  could  climb  as  well  as  anybody, 
and  I  would  roon  off  to  sea  in  a  mun-o-war  and  climb  out  on  big 
spars  if  I  warn't  let  oop  at  birds'  nest  on  t'  cliffs.  Charlie  sat  doon 
and  took  my  lattle  chubby  hand  in  his  long,  slender  fingers. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  65 

"  Ned,"  says  he,  "  lets  measure.  Noo,  when  tha  fingers  grows  as 
long  as  mine  thee  shall  go  birds'-nestin'  o'  cliffs." 

Then  bein'  takken  oop  with  measurin'  an'  starin'  at  my  sma'  brown 
knuckles,  I  forgot  aboot  t'  disappointment  —  Charlie  had  sike  a  way 
o'  comfortin'  us  yoong  uns. 

At  last  we  lay  off  t'  cliffs  and  Frank  cries  out :  "  Yon  be  two  old 
gools  sittin'  aboove  that  ledge." 

"I  can  get  oop  there,"  says  Jamie,  pullin'  off  his  jacket. 

"  Noa,"  cries  Charlie,  "  roon  t'  boat  ashore  an'  we'll  go  oop  to- 
gether." 

So  we  landed,  and  Charlie  sat  me  doon  on  a  big  white  stone, 
brokken  from  t'  cliffs  above  ;  and  says  he,  to  keep  me  quiet  and 
amused  loike,  says  he  :   "  Ned,  doantee  forget  t'  cake." 

I  moind  how  greedy  I  war  and  how  I  kept  feelin'  t'  cake  i'  my 
pocket  whoile  watchin'  t'  lads  goin'  oop  t'  face  o'  t'  rocks,  nimble  as 
cats.  Charlie  war  ahead,  but  he  stopped  short  at  an  ugly  shelf 
hangin'  over  varry  sharp  ;  then  they  all  cam'  oop  wi'  him.  They 
talked  awhoile  an'  tried  to  raise  oop  an'  peep  over  t'  top,  but  it  war 
too  mooch  for  t'  yoonger  lads.  At  last  Charlie  motioned  wi'  one  free 
hond  for  'em  to  bide  still,  and  he  lifted  himself  clear  oop  onto  t'  shelf. 
But  t'  nest  war  still  higher,  on  a  second  shelf,  an'  t'  face  o'  chalk 
atween  t' two  slanted  ootward  and  overhangin'.  I  war  sike  a  babby 
an  so  used  to  have  t'  lads  climbin'  that  I  thout  it  foine  to  see  Char- 
lie's hair  blowin'  loose,  away  oop  on  those  hoights.  I  mind  well  t 
pink  cheek  an'  t'  fair  hair,  and  two  old  gools  screechin'  an'  flyin'  off 
t'  ooper  ledge,  as  Charlie,  huggin'  close  to  cliff,  lifted  himself  reet 
oop  to  t'  nest  on  t'  higher  shelf.  He  shouted  soommat  and  I  knew  he 
had  t'  eggs,  for  t'  other  lads  began  movin'  doon.  In  a  minute  Char- 
lie swung  off  that  ooper  ledge,  but  farther  oot  than  when  he  climbed 
oop.  He  bent  his  head  atween  his  arms  to  see  where  his  feet  would 
strike,  and  t'  other  lads  shouted,  carelessly,  "  Coom  on,  coom  on," 

but Charlie's  body  hung  loike  a  plummet  an'  measured  t'  few 

inches  by  which  t'  ooper  ledge  at  that  spot  overlooked  t'  lower. 
There  war  no  brace  for  his  feet,  his  fingers  had  slipped  too  near  the 
edge  to  secure  a  grasp  that  might  raise  him  oop  to  f  shelf  he  had 
left.     He  hung  sheer,  and  Charlie's  drop  would  be  straight  doon  t» 


66  ELOCUTTONARY  STUDIES. 

face  o'  t'  cliff.  I  couldn't  understand  t'  whole  danger,  but  moinded 
Charlie's  face  war  color  o'  t'  chalk  cliffs.  He  spoke  to  t'  others  lads  ; 
then  they  turned  like  cliffs,  too,  and  I  could  make  oot  their  faces  as 
they  cam'  scramblin'  doon  reckless  an'  quick. 

"  Hold  on,  Charlie;  hold  on,  dear  Charlie,"  they  cried,  and  hoor- 
ried  to  t'  boat. 

"  Ned,"  says  Jamie,  "  bide  quiet.  Doantee  scare  Charlie.  In  two 
minutes  we'll  mak  you  fisherman.  Coom  an'  let  a  rope  doon  from 
aboove.  Bide  still,"  then  "  hold  on  Charlie,"  they  shouted  an'  put  off 
to  some  men  who  hoorried  ashore  to  scale  t'  cliff  where  it  war 
lower,  carryin'  ropes  and  poles  wi'  em. 

"  Hold  on  Charlie,"  I  cried,  echoin'  t'  elder  lads,  I  can  hear  noo 
t'  sound  of  my  own  sma'  voice.  He  nodded  bravely  back  to  me, 
and  I  sat  watchin'  t'  hair  blow  over  his  white  face  an'  seein'  hoo  his 
lithe  yoong  body  swayed  and  trembled  over  t'  dreadful  hoight.  T" 
old  gools  coom  swoopin'  and  screechin'  back  to  nest,  and  just  then 
a  great  pity  for  Charlie  sprang  oop  i'  my  heart.  I  didn't  know  he 
hung  there  for  loife  and  death,  yet  I  had  a  feelin'  he  war  i'  trouble 
too,  and  wanted  to  do  soommat  to  help  or  comfort  him.  I  moinded 
moother's  cake  i'  my  pocket,  and  in  my  silly,  babby  fashion  thout 
that  would  do  him  good  and  give  him  patience  till  men  could  let 
doon  a  rope  from  above.  I  started  oop  t'  cliff,  never  thinkin'  that 
even  bigger  lads  couldn't  safely  pass  t'  lower  ledge,  but  thinkin'  only 
of  Charlie,  and,  in  a  mooddled  way,  that  I  war  fit  to  be  a  sailor  on 
a  mun-o-war  and  a  six-year-old  chap  as  could  climb  anywhere. 

Charlie  sees  me  coomin'  as  he  looks  down  atween  his  two  honds, 
and  shakes  his  head  at  me. 

"  Hold  on,  Charlie,"  I  says  to  him,  "  I  be  goin'  to  give  thee  my 
cake." 

"  Noa,  noa,"  cries  Charlie.     I  could  hear  his  voice  weel  noo. 

"  Es,  es,  dear  Charlie,"  says  I,  "  thee  shall  have  it,  and  its  sweet 
an'  reet  good,  for  moother  made  it." 

"  Doantee  come,  thee'll  be  killed,  Ned." 

"  I  could  climb  a  mun-o-war,"  I  answered  back,  just  then  cuttin' 
open  one  o'  my  hands  and  feelin'  prood  o'  not  cryin'  aboot  that. 

"  Ned,"  says  Charlie,  faintly,   but  wi'  soommat  wild  yet  fearful 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  67 

airnest  i'  his  tone,  "  lattle  Ned,  doantee  try  t'  ledge,  thee'll  be  killed, 
an'  I  proomised  moother  as  no  harm " 

I  war  under  t'  ledge,  an'  already  had  my  honds  on  a  projectin'  bit. 

"  Ned,  Ned,"  cries  Charlie,  "  I  proomised  moother  to  bring  thee 
safe  whoam." 

Still  I  tried  t'  lift  oop  my  honds,  an'  war  just  goin'  to  let  my  feet 
swing  loose,  laughin',  too,  at  thout  o'  givin'  sike  a  good  cake  to 
poor  Charlie. 

His  white,  yoong  face  war  turned  doon  upo'  me  ;  his  lips  pressed 
toight ;  his  eyes  wide-strained  and  pitiful ;  his  body  shiverin'  and 
sway  in'. 

"  I  proomised  moother,"  he  said ;  then  shut  his  eyes,  unclinched 

his  honds  fro'  t'  rock  aboove  an'  Charlie  went  sheer  doon  t' 

face  o'  t'  cliff ! 

T'  fisher  folk  saw  from  aboove  what  had  happened.  They  picked 
me  oop,  a  lattle  heap  at  foot  o'  c^ff,  but  quite  unhurt.  Then  they 
laid  Charlie's  beautiful  yoong  body  straight  in  t'  boat.  Frank  and 
Jamie  held  their  faces  covered  ;  t' fishermen  trembled  as  they  neared 
our  door  and  shrunk  awa'  from  moother's  eyes. 

I  war  t'  only  one  as  could  tell  her  hoo  it  happened.  "  I  war 
takkin'  him  my  cake,  moother,"  said  I,  "  I  could  ha'  coom  oop  for 
him  for  a  mun-o-war  can  climb  anywhere,  but  Charlie  cried  oot, 
'  I  promised  moother,'  an'  let  himself  drop." 

I  can  feel  noo  t'  grasp  and  clasp  moother  give  me.  I  can  feel 
her  soft  hair  against  my  cheek  ;  her  head  buried  in  my  neck  as  she 
wept  oot :  "  Oh,  my  poor  lattle  lad,  thee  doant  know,  thee  doant 
know." 

Jamie  began  wi' :  "  Charlie  died  to  save " 

"Doantee!"  cries  moother,  wi' a  great  sob.  I  could  feel  t' 
spasm  of  pain  that  wrang  her  heart;  feel  hoo  it  shook  her  Avhole 
frame.  "  Doantee  tell  him,  doant."  She  never  told  me,  Cod  bless 
her.  Growin'  older  I  cam'  to  understand  t'  truth  and  one  toime 
asked  moother  if  twere  as  I  thout. 

She  gave  me  t'  same  clasp  as  on  that  day  when  Charlie's  face  lay 
so  white  an'  so  beautiful  before  us,  an'  cried  out  wi'  tears :  "  My 
poor,  lattle  lad,  thee  deadent  know." 

It's  long  ago  sin',  long  ago ;  but  t'  sorrow  owt  will  bide  forever. 


68  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

OWL   IN   CHURCH. 


Rosa  Vertner  Jeffrey. 


FRONTING  us  all, 
In  a  niche  in  the  wall, 
As  if  proud  of  his  lofty  station, 
Like  a  monk  in  a  cowl 
Sat  a  little  gray  owl, 

Looking  down  on  the  congregation. 

Hymns  and  chants  as  they  rose 

Failed  to  stir  his  repose, 

A  grave  mien  to  the  holy  place  suiting; 

Merely  looking  surprise 

With  his  solemn,  round  eyes, 

He  heard  them  all  through  without  hooting. 
» 
His  feathers  he  shook, 

And  a  questioning  look 

On  this  wise  he  cast  at  the  people  : 
"  You're  high  church,  'tis  true, 
But  I'm  higher  than  you, 

For  my  screeching  I  do  in  the  steeple. 

"  If  by  dropping  in  here 
Once  a  week  ye  appear 

Thus  cleansed  from  all  outward  pollution, 
How  clean  I  must  be 
Living  always,  you  see, 

In  the  top  of  this  pure  institution  !  " 

He  glanced  through  the  pews 
As  if  trying  to  choose 

A  few  from  the  many  anointed, 
With  charity  freed 
From  ritual  creed  ; 

I  thought  that  he  looked  disappointed. 

Quoth  the  wise  little  owl 
In  his  modest  gray  cowl, 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  69 

"  What  grand  dressing  !  "  and  then,  slyly  winking, 
"  'T  would  be  more  orthodox 
To  put  more  in  the  box 

And  less  in  the  pews,  I  am  thinking." 

Judging  men  from  aloft, 

As  the  righteous  do  oft,  f 

And  women  — oh,  owl  have  compassion  ! 
For  the  sees  of  our  church 
Would  be  left  in  the  lurch 

If  its  aisles  were  forsaken  by  fashion. 

Of  our  creed  justly  proud, 
We  respond  very  loud,  ■ 

By  holy  zeal  gravely  excited, 
And  yet  look  innocent, 
As  if  "  us  sinners"  meant 

Not  ourselves,  but  some  race  more  benighted. 

Let  paid  choirs  screech, 
Let  the  dear  clergy  preach, 

Don't  hoot  at  them  up  in  the  steeple ;      . 
It's  too  high  a  perch 
To  tell  "  tales  out  of  church," 

And  might  frighten  away  outside  people. 

Beware  how  you  chat 
To  the  hawk  and  the  bat ; 

Church  gossip  returned  with  due  culture 
Gives  much  more  to  boot ; 
You  won't  know  your  own  hoot, 

And  may  find  yourself  changed  to  a  vulture. 

It  is  not  orthodox 
To  peep  into  our  box 

And  take  notes  underneath  your  gray  cowl 
Of  who  gives  and  who  don't, 
And  we  hope  that  you  won't, 

Or  we'll  call  you  a  meddlesome  owl. 


70  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

THE  RED  BIRD. 


William    H.    Hayne. 


The  author  is  the  son   of  Paul  Hayne,  and   this  exquisite  poem  gives  promise 
that  he  is  destined  to  follow  in  the  steps  of  his  illustrious  father. 


I   WATCH  his  wings  in  thickets  dim, 
For  sunset  seems  to  follow  him  — 

Sunset  from  some  mysterious  West, 
Whose  crimson  glory  girds  his  breast. 

A  winged  ruby  wrought  of  flame, 

Whence  comes  his  beauty  ?  whence  his  name  ? 

Clear  as  a  bright  awakening  beam 
Through  the  vague  vista  of  a  dream, 

An  answer  comes.     I  seem  to  feel 
The  flash  of  armor,  glint  of  steel ; 

The  whir  of  arrows  quick  and  keen, 
The  battle-axe's  baleful  sheen  ; 

The  long,  relentless  spear,  whose  thrust 
Makes  the  mad  foeman  writhe  in  dust ; 

The  din  of  conflict  and  the  stress 
Of  war's  incarnate  angriness. 

A  wavering  mass  — a  panic  wrought 
Swift  as  some  stormy  burst  of  thought, 

Then  distance  hides  a  vanquished  host, 
And  sound  becomes  a  wandering  ghost. 

But  soon  I  see.  half  poised  in  ail, 
And  stricken  by  a  nameless  fear, 

A  small,  brown-breasted  bird,  whose  eyes 
Are  clouded  with  a  deep  surprise, 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  71 

The  earliest  bird  with  terror  rife 
At  a  wild  waste  of  human  life. 

How  soon  his  dread  to  wonder  turns 
As  downward,  where  a  life-stream  burns, 

He  darts  and  dips  his  quivering  wings, 
While  o'er  his  heart  the  crimson  clings. 

With  tender  eyes  and  pitying  face 
He  flutters  softly  o'er  the  place, 

And  when  at  last  his  wings  are  spread 
A  lurid  lustre  crowns  his  head, 

And  his  bright  body  soars  afar, 
Red  as  autumnal  sunsets  are. 


I  WONDER  WHAT   MAUD  WILL  SAY? 


Samuel  Minturn  Peck. 


DEAR  Harry,  I  will  not  dissemble, 
A  candid  confession  is  best ; 
My  fate  —  but  alas,  how  I  tremble  ! 

My  fate  I  must  put  to  the  test. 
This  morning  I  gathered  in  sadness 

A  strand  from  my  locks,  slightly  gray ; 
To  delay  any  longer  were  madness 
I  wonder  what  Maud  will  say  ? 

The  deed,  it  was  well  to  do  quickly, 

Macbeth  makes  a  kindred  remark ; 
I  wonder  if  Mac  felt  as  sickly 

When  he  carved  the  old  king  in  the  dark? 
The  fellows  who  marry  all  do  it, 

But  what  is  the  usual  way  ? 
Heigho  !   don't  I  wish   I  were  through  it! 

I  wonder  what  Maud  will  say  ? 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

Would  you  give  her  a  pug  or  a  pony, 

A  picture  or  only  a  book  ; 
A  novel  —  say  Bulwer's  "Zanoni," 

Or  a  poem,  "  Lucille,"  "  Lalla  Rookh;  M 
Bonbons  from  Maillard's,  or  a  necklace 

Of  pearls,  or  a  mammoth  bouquet? 
By  Jove  !    I  am  perfectly  reckless  — 

I  wonder  what  Maud  will  say  ?  * 

Shall  I  speak  of  the  palace  at  Como 

Which  captured  the  heart  of  Pauline  ? 
There's  a  likeness  of  Claude  in  a  chromo ; 

Would  you  buy  it  and  practice  the  scene? 
But  no  !   I'm  no  Booth,  nor  an  Irving, 

My  fancy  has  led  me  astray, 
To  a  lover  so  true  and  deserving— 

I  wonder  what  Maud  will  say  ? 

Could  I  warble  like  Signor  Gallassi, 

In  passionate  song  I  would  soar  — 
I  recall  she  applauded  him,  as  he 

Serenaded  the  fair  Leonore  ; 
My  strain  would  resound  love-compelling, 

Far  sweeter  than  Orpheus'  lay  ; 
Already  my  bosom  is  swelling  — 

I  wonder  what  Maud  will  say  ? 

Shall  I  tell  her  my  love  very  gravely, 

Or  propose  in  a  moment  of  mirth, 
Or  lead  to  the  subject  suavely, 

And  mention  how  much  I  am  worth  ? 
Old  fellow,  I  know  I  shall  blunder 

When  she  blossoms  as  bright  as  the  day, 
My  wits  will  be  dazzled ;   Oh,  thunder ! 

I  wonder  what  Maud  will  say  ? 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  73 

WOMEN   OF  THE  WAR. 


Annie  Thomas. 


Written  for  and  read  before  the  National  Women's  Christian  Temperance 
Union,  at  the  commemoration  of  Women  of  the  War,  May  30,  1887,  New  York 
city.  

ALL  praise,  all  honor  to  the  valiant  men 
Who,  casting  fortune  by,  and  risking  life, 
Left  home  and  loved  ones — all  that  life  holds  dear, 
To  fight  for  country  or  for  country  die. 

Speak  of  their  valor  oft  in  thankful  words, 
Sing  loud  and  clear  their  praise,  in  notes  of  love ; 
Cover  their  graves  with  bays  and  flowers  to-day. 
Of  them,  too  much  cannot  be  said  or  sung. 

And  to  the  living,  wounded  heroes — all, 

Who  gave  the  best  of  life — the  dearest  gift; 

Who,  maimed,  are  destined  now  through  time  to  go — 

Our  country's  best  and  choicest  gifts  be  given. 

Others  there  are  who  bore  no  minor  part 

In  the  dread  conflict  of  our  civil  strife ; 

Who  bravely,  with  tongue  and  pen,  aye,  and  with  sword, 

Defended  right  as  only  woman  may. 

Who  in  the  hospital  with  gentle  hand 
Bound  up  the  bleeding  wound — cooled  the  parched  lip ; 
With  aching  brow,  night  after  night  kept  watch, 
Tenderly  nursing  the  dying  back  to  life. 

Or  those,  who,  patient,  toiled  alone  at  home, 
Bearing  the  double  burden  on  them  thrown  ; 
Struggling,  and  oft,  midst  hunger,  cold  and  grief, 
To  rear  the  little  ones  that  to  them  clung. 

The  noble,  patient  mothers,  sisters,  wives, 

Who,  with  brave  hearts  and  loving,  hopeful  words, 


<;  +  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

Hiding  their  sorrow,  denying  even  tears, 
Cheered  on  the  weary,  homesick  patriots. 

The  dear  old  grandmother,  whose  trembling  hands 
Knitted  away  for  them — her  soldiers  all — 
Until  the  poor  eyes,  dim  with  age  and  tears, 
Grown  blinded  quite — the  stitch  no  longer  found. 

The  tender,  loving  younger  ones — sweethearts — 
For  love  of  whom  and  praise  from  whom  full  oft, 
The  soldier  nerved  his  heart  and  marched  away 
To  combat,  suffering,  privation,  death. 

To  these  we  also  render  thanks  to-day; 
Of  these — brave  ernes — our  heartfelt  songs  are  sung. 
The  memory  of  these  to-day  refreshed  with  tears ; 
These,  also,  wreathe  we  with  immortal  flowers. 


GENERAL  GRANT'S  ENGLISH. 


Mark  Twain. 


This  speech  was  delivered  at  the  annual  reunion  of  the  Army  and  Navy  Club 
of  Connecticut,  on  the  anniversary  of  General  Grant's  birthday,  April  27,  1887. 
It  makes  an  excellent  declamation. 


I  WILL  detain  you  with  only  just  a  few  words — just  a  few 
thousand  words  —  and  then  give  place  to  a  better  man,  if  he 
has  been  created.  Lately  a  great  and  honored  author,  Matthew 
Arnold,  has  been  finding  fault  with  Gen.  Grant's  English.  That 
would  be  fair  enough,  may  be,  if  the  examples  of  imperfect  English 
averaged  more  instances  to  the  page  in  Gen.  Grant's  book  than 
they  do  in  Mr.  Arnold's  criticism  upon  the  book  ;  but  they  don't. 
It  would  be  fair  enough,  may  be,  if  such  instances  were  commoner 
in  Gen.  Grant's  book  than  they  are  in  the  works  of  the  average 
standard  author;  but  they  aren't.  In  truth,  Gen.  Grant's  derelic- 
tions in  the  matter  of  grammar  and  construction  are  not  more  fre- 
quent than  are  such  derelictions  in  the  works  of  a  majority  0/  the 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  75 

professional  authors  of  our  time  and  all  previous  times — authors  as 
exclusively  and  painstakingly  trained  to  the  literary  trade  as  was 
Gen.  Grant  to  the  trade  of  war. 

This  is  not  a  random  statement ;  it  is  a  fact,  and  easily  demon- 
strable. I  have  at  home  a  book  called  "  Modern  English  Litera- 
ture, its  Blemishes  and  Defects,"  by  Henry  H.  Breen,  F.  S.  A.,  a 
countryman  of  Mr.  Arnold.  In  it  I  find  examples  of  bad  grammar 
and  slovenly  English  from  the  pens  of  Sydney  Smith,  Sheridan, 
Hallam,  Whateley,  Carlyle,  both  Disraelis,  Allison,  Junius,  Blair, 
Macaulay,  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Gibbon,  Southey,  Bulwer,  Cobbett, 
Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  Trench,  Lamb,  Landor,  Smollett,  Walpole, 
Walker  (of  the  dictionary),  Christopher  North,  Kirke  White,  Mrs. 
Sigourney,  Benjamin  Franklin,  Walter  Scott  and  Mr.  Lindley  Mur- 
ray, who  made  the  grammar. 

In  Mr.  Arnold's  paper  on  Gen.  Grant's  book  we  find  a  couple  of 
grammatical  crimes  and  more  than  several  examples  of  very  crude 
and  slovenly  English  —  enough  of  them  to  easily  entitle  him  to  a 
lofty  place  in  that  illustrious  list  of  delinquents  just  named.  Gen. 
Grant's  grammar  is  as  good  as  anybody's ;  but  if  this  were  not  so, 
we  might  brush  that  inconsequential  fact  aside  and  hunt  his  great 
book  for  far  higher  game.  To  suppose  that  because  a  man  is  a  poet 
or  a  historian  he  must  be  correct  in  his  grammar,  is  to  suppose  that 
an  architect  must  be  a  joiner,  or  a  physician  a  compounder  of  medi- 
cines. If  you  should  climb  the  mighty  Matlerhorn  to  look  out  over 
the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  it  might  be  a  pleasant  incident  to  find 
strawberries  up  there ;  but,  great  Scott,  you  don't  climb  the  Matter- 
1  horn  for  strawberries  ! 

There  is  that  about  the  sun  which  makes  us  forget  his  spots;  and 
when  we  think  of  Gen.  Grant  our  pulses  quicken  and  his  grammar 
vanishes.  We  only  remember  that  this  is  the  simple  soldier,  who, 
all  untaught  of  the  silken  phrase-makers,  linked  words  together  with 
an  art  surpassing  the  art  of  the  schools,  and  put  into  them  a  some- 
thing which  will  still  bring  to  American  ears,  as  long  as  America 
shall  last,  the  roll  of  his  vanished  drums  and  the  tread  of  his  march- 
ing hosts.  What  do  we  care  for  grammar  when  we  think  of  the 
man  that  put  together  that  thunderous  phrase,  "  Unconditional  and 


76  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

immediate  surrender  !  "  And  those  others  :  "  I  propose  to  move 
immediately  upon  your  works  !  "  "I  propose  to  fight  it  out  on  this 
line  if  it  takes  all  summer  !  "  Mr.  Arnold  would,  doubtless,  claim 
that  that  last  sentence  is  not  strictly  grammatical,  and  yet,  neverthe- 
less, it  did  certainly  wake  up  this  nation  as  a  hundred  million  tons 
of  A  i,  fourth  proof,  hard-boiled,  hide-bound  grammar  from  another 
mouth  couldn't  have  done.  And,  finally,  we  have  that  gentler 
phrase,  that  one  which  shows  you  another  true  side  of  the  man  ; 
shows  that  in  his  soldier  heart  there  was  room  for  other  than  gory 
war  mottoes,  and  in  his  tongue  the  gift  to  fitly  phrase  them  :  "  Let 
us  have  peace." 


THE   FRENCH   ENSIGN.     (Abridged.) 


Alphonse  Daudet. 


This  very  stirring  war  poem  was  written  by  a  very  popular  French  writer.  It 
records  the  story  of  a  soldier,  who,  though  a  common  man,  was  a  noble  patriot. 
Twenty  years  of  honorable  service  were  given  to  his  country  before  he  had  earned 
his  sergeant's  stripes.  He  was  afterward  made  an  ensign,  and  then  a  sub-lieuten- 
ant. On  the  surrender  of  Bazaine,  when  his  flag  was  taken,  he  tore  it  from  the 
Prussian  officer's  hand,  and,  waving  it  aloft,  tried  to  rouse  the  French  soldiers  to 
an  attempt  to  break  through  the  enemy's  lines.  His  effort  was  vain  and  he  died 
of  anger  and  shame. 

ROUND  their  flag,  on  the  bank  of  a  railway,  the  regiment  stood, 
A  mark  for  the  Prussian  army,  massed  in  the  opposite  wood, 
Eighty  yards  between  them.     Heavens  !  how  the  bullets  flew. 
"Lie  down  ! r'  the  officer  shouted  ;  but  that  not  a  man  would  do. 
Iron  it  rained  on  that  slope  !    With  crackle  and  peal  and  blaze, 
Piercing  the  flag  that  waved  aloft  in  the  wind  of  the  mitrailleuse  — - 
The  flag  that  again  and  again,  with  its  bearer,  faltered  and  fell 
Back  in  the  smoke  and  carnage,  like  a  lost  soul  into  hell ; 
And  ever  as  it  fell,  a  voice  from  the  topmost  crag, 
Dominating  the  firing,  cried  :   "  The  flag,  my  lads,  the  flag  !  " 
Twenty-two  times  it  fell  !   Twenty-two  times  its  haft, 
Warm  from  a  dying  hand,  was  seized  and  held  aloft  ; 
And  when  the  sun  went  down,  and  the  regiment  slowly  began 
A  dogged  retreat,  still  firing,  and  wounded  —  ay,  every  man, 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  77 

The  ghost  of  their  former  glory,  the  colors  were  borne  away 
In  the  hands  of  Ensign  Hornus,  the  twenty-third  of  that  day. 

Night  had  drawn  her  curtain,  when  the  gallant  colonel  came 
And  taking  Hornus'  brave  right  hand  he  kindly  spoke  his  name, 
Saying:  "  You've  got  the  colors,  I  see;  keep  them,  my  brave  old  lad !  " 
His  comrades  scarcely  knew  him  that  night,  he  looked  so  gay  and 

glad, 
And  round  his  coarse  old  cap  —  all  frayed  with  weather  wear, 
The  band  of  a  sub-lieutenant  was  stitched  by  the  vivandiere. 

It  had  been  his  one  ambition  !     And  it  filled  his   heart  with  pride ; 
And  he  drew  himself  proudly  up,  and   walked  with   a  martial  stride. 
And  when  the  bullets  sang  round  him,  tearing  it  rag  by  rag, 
High  above  treachery,  death  and  defeat,  he  held  his  darling  flag  ; 
All  his  life,  his  strength,  his  soul  bowed  to  his  chief's  command 
That  his  regiment's  colors  should  be  kept  from  the  enemy's  soiling 
hand. 

And  he  stood  in  the  midst  of  battle  with  a  bold,  defiant  air, 
Seeming  to  say  to  the  Prussian  host,  "  Ay,  take  them  if  you  dare  !  " 
But  no  one  took  them  —  not  even  death,  and  the  colors  came  out 
From  murderous  battlefields  —  from  Borny  and  Gravelotte  — 
Tattered,  transparent  with  wounds,  sword-thrust  and  bullet-drill, 
But  safe  in  the  hands  of  Hornus  ;  the  veteran  held  them  still. 

Came  the  autumn.    In  Metz,  foe  incircled,  the  army  lay 
Through  that  long  pause  of  sick'ning  peace,  and  slow  but  sure  decay ; 
In  the  mud  the  cannon  rusted  —  rusted  in  its  sheath  the  steel, 
And  the  soldiers  died  by  thousands  waiting  for  the  clarion  peal. 

Alas  !  for  poor  old  Hornus  !     One  day  he  waked  to  hear 

The  camp  in  a  clamor.     Curses  and  threats  were  what  met  his  ear. 

And  Hornus,  rushing  out  of  his  tent,  was  given  to  know 

That    Marshal   Bazaine   had    surrendered — surrendered    without   a 

blow  ! 
"  Down  with  the  coward  !  "  they  yelled,  and  cursed  the  Marshal's 

name, 
While  the  officers  silently  listened,  hanging  their  heads  for  shame. 


78  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

"  And   my  colors  ? "  asked    Hornus,    trembling.     Ah  !  his   colors, 

'twas  confessed, 
Would  go,  at  the  Marshal's  order,  to  the  Prussians  with  the  rest. 
Stiffened  his  face  as  he  heard  it — every  muscle,  every  line, 
"  T—Tonnerre  de  Dieu/"  the  poor  man  stuttered,  "They  shan't 

get  mine," 

Away  to  the  town  rushed  Hornus,  muttering  as  he  ran  : 

"  Take  my  flag,  indeed  !      Let  them  try  it — every  man  ! 

Let  the  Marshal  give  the  Prussians  his  carriages  and  his  plate  ; 

But  my  flag  is   mine — and   mine  alone  !     'Tis  my  honor,  'tis  my 

fate  !  " 
He    hurried   along    the    noisy   streets,    and    through  the    shouting 

throng, ' 
A  great  resolve  within  him  arising  clear  and  strong 
To  secure  his  regiment's  colors,  and  despite  the  Marshal's  seals, 
Carve  his  way  through  the  Prussian  lines  with  his  comrades  at  his 

heels. 

The  arsenal  gates  were  open.     The  Prussian  wagons  stood 
In  the  yard,  and  behind  them  waited  in  sorrowful  attitude 
Old  Hornus'  brother  ensigns;  bareheaded  they  stood  in  the  rain; 
And  seeing  them  thus  the  old  man's  heart  was  touched  with  name- 
less pain. 
And  there  in  a  muddy  corner  the  army  colors  lay  ! 
With  their  golden  fringes  and  gay-hued  silk  all  foul  with  mire  and 

clay. 
An  officer  lifted  them  one  by  one  as  they  called  each  regiment's 

name. 
And  forward  for  his  acquittance  in  turn  each  ensign  came. 
"  Hornus,  get  your  receipt.     Your  turn  !  "     But  Hornus  stands. 
What  does  he  care  about  a  receipt  ?     He  wrings  his  hands 
And  looks  at  his  flag — the  last,  the  loveliest  of  them  all. 
And  as  he  looked  he  seemed  again  to  hear  the  stirring  call  : 
"  The  flag,  my  lads,  the  flag  !  "     And  once  again  he  stood 
On  the  bank  of  the  railway,  facing  the  Prussians  in  the  wood 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  79 

With  his  dauntless  comrades — answering  the  enemy  gun  for  gun, 

Grouped  in  the  awful  blood-red  glare  of  the  setting  sun, 

Seeing  his  comrades,  one  by  one,  springing  forward  to  raise 

That  flag,  and  float  it  once  again  in  the  wind  of  the  mitrailleuse, 

And  himself,  at  the  colonel's  call,  seizing  the  gilded  haft 

Warm  from  a  dying  hand,  again  its  folds  to  waft. 

On  the  evening  after  the  battle,  he  had  sworn — no  maiter  how 

It  was    assailed — to    guard    that    flag    till  death — till  death.     And 

now ? 

Frantic,  distracted — mad  !     He  forward  leapt,  and  tore 

The  flag  from  the  officer's  grasp,  and  held  it  aloft  once  more  : 

"  The  flag,  my  lads,  the  flag  !  " 

But  the  flag  would  not  float !     In  that  atmosphere,  heavy  and  chili 

as  death, 
What  glorious  thing  could  live  ?     What  glorious  soul  find  breath  ? 
And  the  standard  slipped  from  its  bearer's  hand,  lifeless,  heavy  as 

lead, 
And  Hornus — choked  with  rage  and  the  shame  of  the  thing — fell 

dead. 


THE  STAR  OF  DEMOCRACY. 


Henry   Watterson. 


Speech  on  the  occasion  of  the  nomination  of  General  S.  B.  Buckner  as  Governor 
of  Kentucky. 


M 


R.  CHAIRMAN  AND  FELLOW-DEMOCRATS— I  take 
this  to  be  a  dress-parade  of  the  boys  in  the  trenches.  I  am 
but  a  drummer  myself,  but  it  makes  my  heart  swell  with  the  pride  of 
a  sergeant-major  to  look  upon  this  magnificent  array  of  Kentucky 
Democrats.  It  is  an  unmistakable  sign  that  there  is  life  in  the 
party  yet. 

There  needs  to  be.  Rarely  in  the  history  of  the  politics  of  the 
country  has  there  been  greater  need  of  some  vitalizing  current  in 
Democratic  counsels  than  there  now  is,  and  where  shall  we  look  to 
find  this  vitalizing  current  if  not  in   Kentucky  ?     The  only  distinct 


8o  EL  0 C UTIONAR  Y  STUDIES. 

line  of  Democratic  policy  which  at  this  time  awakens  the  enthii" 
siasm  of  friends,  and  excites  the  denunciation  of  foes,  is  everywhere 
described  as  "  the  Kentucky  idea."  And  what  is  the  Kentucky 
idea  ?  It  is,  as  far  as  I  am  able  to  interpret  it  —  and  if  there  be 
anything  I  do  understand,  as  the  old  woman  said  of  her  "  bluin'," 
it  is  the  Democracy  of  Kentucky  —  it  is  a  sturdy  clinging  to  the 
idea  that  government  belongs  to  the  many,  and  is  not  the  exclu- 
sive property  of  the  few,  and  an  obstinate  insistance  that  this  idea 
shall  be  carried  into  every  administrative  and  legislative  affair,  and 
applied  alike  to  the  self-anointed  and  the  great  unwashed. 

Fellow- Democrats,  we  have  stumbled  upon  times  which,  if  they 
do  not  try  men's  souls,  are  enough  to  sicken  dogs.  Turn  which- 
ever way  you  will,  it  shall  go  lucky  with  you  if  you  do  not  stick  youi 
nose  into  a  bottle  of  patent  medicine  prescribed  for  the  regenera- 
tion of  mankind.  The  air  is  full  of  nostrums.  There  is  the  Pro- 
tectionist's Wonderful  Iron  Tonic  for  making  men  rich  by  taxation. 
There  is  the  Mugwump's  Civil  Service  Elixir  for  purifying  the  sys- 
tem and  perpetuating  liberty  by  the  erection  of  an  aristocracy  of 
office  upon  the  ruins  of  representative  government.  There  is 
Fraud's  Own  Pauper  Patriotic  Liniment,  which  proposes  to  exter- 
minate vagabondage  by  making  every  tramp  a  pensioner,  and 
which  we  should  have  actually  had  administered  to  us  but  for 
the  fly  which  Grover  Cleveland  dropped  into  the  first  box  of 
the  ointment  submitted  to  his  inspection.  There  is  that  delicious 
sugar-coated  double  compound  Educational  Capsule,  which  is  to 
be  given  to  every  little  African  in  the  land  before  he  goes 
to  bed,  and  when  he  gets  up  in  the  morning  he  shall  come  forth 
a  scholar  and  a  gentleman.  And  then  there  is  Fox's  Universal 
Renovator  and  Social,  Moral  and  Political  Cure-all,  the  Tee- 
total Prohibition  Porous  Plaster,  which  will  stick  to  you  like  a 
brother,  and  which  is  expected  to  convert  every  drinking-saloon 
into  a  temple  of  worship,  and  to  repeople  the  world  with  a  new  race 
of  angels. 

I  am  against  each  and  all  of  these  quack  remedies,  and  against 
the  man  who  is  in  favor  of  any  one  of  them,  and  more  particularly 
against  him  if  he  claims  to  be  a  Democrat.     They  strike  at  the  root 


EL OCUTIONAR  Y  STUDIES.  8 1 

of  our  constitutional  system,  which  was  conceived  in  the  right  of 
man  to  govern  himself,  and  brought  forth  to  meet  the  evil  that 
mankind  is  governed  too  much.  It  would  amaze  the  fathers  of 
this  republic  to  look  in  upon  us  to-day  and  to  behold  the  elaborate 
architecture  and  the  costly  and  variegated  furniture  with  which  the 
vanity  and  avarice  of  men  and  the  ingenuity  of  devils  have  con- 
trived to  overlay  and  decorate  the  simple  republican  structure  they 
hewed  out  of  the  primal  forests  of  nature  and  built  upon  the  rocks 
of  liberty. 

If  it  be  not  the  mission  of  the  Democratic  party  to  preserve  in  the 
new  something  of  the  spirit  of  the  old,  to  combine  tradition 
with  movement,  and  to  lighten  the  highways  of  progress  with 
brands  snatched  from  the  fire  kindled  by  those  who  launched  the 
ark  of  the  Union  and  made  the  covenant  of  States,  then  there  is 
no  future  for  us,  but  a  repetition  of  histories,  which  had  better 
never  been.  I  have  followed  the  morning  star  of  Democracy 
from  the  noonday  of  secession  through  the  darkest  hours  of  the 
midnight  of  reconstruction,  and  with  the  dawn  of  peace  and  reason 
have  seen  it  shine  over  a  reunited  people  as  bright  and  clear  as  the 
star  of  Bethlehem,  which  presaged  the  coming  of  Christ ;  and  as 
truly  as  I  believe  that  God  reigns  and  orders  all  things  for  good,  so 
I  believe  that  this  morning  star  of  Democracy,  which  has  returned 
to  its  meridian  and  shines  once  more  above  the  White  House  at 
Washington,  presages  the  final  triumph  of  freedom  and  the  reign 
forever  and  aye  of  the  people's  simple  majesty.  It  is  because  I 
believe  this  that  I  am  unwilling  to  yield  one  inch  of  the  people's 
ground  to  the  encroachments  of  innovation,  and  hold  these  innova- 
tions more  dangerous  when  they  come  clad  in  the  raiment  and  fly- 
ing the  flag  of  a  spurious  Democracy.  I  had  rather  meet  fifty  enemies 
on  the  open  plain  in  honest  fight  than  one  single  enemy  disguised 
as  a  friend. 

Let  me  urge  upon  this  convention,  then,  the  reassertion  of  each 
of  the  old  time-honored  doctrines  that  has  any  bearing  upon  the 
present  state  of  public  affairs  ;  the  needful  limitations  of  the  Federal 
power;  the  unimpaired  rights  of  the  States;  the  money  of  the  con- 
stitution, expressed  in  gold  and  silver  and  paper,  convertible  into 


82  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

coin  upon  demand ;  the  free  education  of  the  people  at  home ;  no 
sumptuary  laws  ;  no  political  secret  societies;  no  more  revenue  than 
the  government,  economically  administered,  can  spend,  and  a  tariff 
laid  upon  the  luxuries  of  life  exclusively  for  public  purposes.  These, 
fellow-Democrats,  are  cardinal  and  axiomatic  Democratic  truths, 
and  no  Democrat  can  miss  his  way  as  long  as  he  sticks  to  them  with 
all  his  heart.  Return  to  the  trenches,  I  entreat  you,  and  having  laid 
aside  your  store  clothes  and  put  on  your  homespun,  go  to  work  to 
substantiate  them  as  embodied  by  the  good  men  and  true  selected 
by  you  to  bear  them  on  to  victory. 


This  speech  is  bristling  with  points  and  makes  an  excellent  decla- 
mation. An  analysis  is  made  of  that  portion  in  which  political  nos- 
trums are  named,  and  the  star  of  Democracy  is  described.  The 
teacher  will  do  well  to  require  pupils  to  give  a  full  analysis.  By 
assuming  thatthefollowingquestionsare  asked  and  answers  given,  the 
full  meaning  and  correct  rendering  will  be  brought  out  : 

What  does  the  Protectionist's  Tonic  propose  to  do?  "To  make 
men  rich  by  taxation." 

What  is  the  use  of  the  Mugwump's  Civil  Service  Elixir?  "To 
purify  the  body  politic." 

What  else  ?      "  For  perpetuating  liberty." 

How  ?      "  By  the  erection  of  an  aristocracy  of  office." 

Upon  what  ?     "  The  ruins  of  representative  government." 

What  does  the  Fraud's  Own  Pauper  Patriotic  Liniment  propose 
to  do  ?     "  Exterminate  vagabondage." 

How  ?      "  By  making  every  tramp  a  pensioner." 

Why  are  we  not  using  this  nostrum  now  ?  "  Because  Grover 
Cleveland  dropped  a  fly  into  the  first  box  that  was  presented  for 
his  inspection." 

What  is  die  Educational  Capsule  ?  -"A  delicious  sugar-coated 
double  compound." 

To  whom  is  it  to  be  given?  "To  eveiy  little  African  in  the 
land." 

When  ?     "  Before  he  goes  to  bed." 

What  is  the  result  ?  "  He  comes  forth  as  a  scholar  and  a 
gentleman." 

When  ?     "  When  he  gets  up  in  the  morning." 

How  is  the  Teetotal  Prohibition  Porous  Plaster  described  ?  "As 
Fox's  Universal  Renovator  and  Social,  Moral  and  Political  Cure- 
all" 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  83 

What  is  its  effect  ?     "It  will  stick  to  you  like  a  brother." 

What  is  it  expected  to  do  ?  "  To  convert  every  drinking-saloon 
into  a  temple  of  worship." 

What  else  ?     "  To  re-people  the  world  with  a  new  race  of  angels." 

How  long  does  Mr.  Watterson  say  he  has  followed  the  star  of 
Democracy  ?  "  Since  the  noonday  of  secession  and  the  darkest 
hours  of  the  midnight  of  reconstruction." 

When  did  it  shine  over  a  reunited  people  ?  "  With  the  dawn  of 
peace  and  reason."  „ 

What  was  its  appearance  ?  "As  bright  and  clear  as  the  star  of 
Bethlehem." 

Where  is  this  morning  star  of  Democracy  ?  "  Over  the  White 
House  at  Washington." 

What  does  it  presage  ?     "  The  final  triumph  of  freedom." 

What  more  ?     "  The  reign  of  the  people's  simple  majesty." 

For  what  length  of  time  ?     "  Forever  and  aye." 


MR.  BOWSER  AMONG  THE  DRESSMAKERS. 


A   THRILLING    RECITAL   BY    HIS    WIFE. 


WHAT  Mr.  Bowser  didn't  know  about  dressmaking  up  to  a  week 
ago  wasn't  worth  knowing.  What  he  doesn't  know  now 
would  fill  a  large-sized  book.  I  was  fretting  about  the  delay  on  the 
part  of  my  dressmaker  when  he   suddenly  turned  on  me  with  : 

"  Mrs.  Bowser,. it's  all  confounded  nonsense!  When  I  order  a  suit 
of  clothes  they  are  ready  for  me  at  the  date  set,  and  if  there  is  any 
reason  why  a  dressmaker  can't  do  business  on  business  principles, 
I  want  to  know  it." 

"  But  I  can't  help  it,"  I  protested. 

"  No,  you  can't  !  You  women  are  fools  to  be  imposed  upon  as 
you  are  !  Fd  like  to  see  one  of  these  dressmakers  bamboozle  me 
around  the  way  they  do  you !  " 

"  But  you  don't  wear  dresses." 

"  For  which  I  thank  Heaven !  There  is  more  nonsense  about 
selecting  a  dress  and  having  it  made  up  than  is  seen  in  an  idiot 
asylum  in  a  year.     I  tell  you,  it's  all  bosh  !  " 

"  You  might  select  my  dress  goods  for  me." 


84  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

"  Oh  !  I  might !  Well,  hang  me  if  I  don't  !  Yes,  I'll  go  down 
this  very  afternoon  and  buy  you  a  new  dress,  and  I'll  follow  the 
cloth  until  you  have  it  on  your  back  !  I'll  show  you,  Mrs.  Bowser? 
that  business  is  business  !  " 

He  began  operations  after  dinner.  Mr.  Bowser  has  an  alarm 
clock  which  goes  off  to  the  minute.  He  therefore  argues  that 
everybody  else  ought  to  go  off  with  the  same  promptness  and  dis- 
patch. He  jumped  off  the  car  and  rushed  into  a  dry-goods  store 
and  said : 

"  Give  me  twelve  yards  of  stuff  for  a  dress — quick  !  " 

"  Calico  or  silk  ?  "  queried  the  clerk. 

"  Why,  silk,  of  course.  You  may  give  me  two  shades — six  yards 
in  a  shade.     I'll  take  green  and  blue." 

"  But  no  one  can  get  a  dress  out  of  twelve  yards  of  silk,  and  as 
for  the  colors " 

"  They  can't,  eh  !  "  howled  Bowser,  "  my  mother  never  had  over 
ten  yards  for  a  dress,  and  twelve  has  got  to  make  one  for  my  wife. 
The  colors  are  all  right." 

The  clerk  gave  him  what  he  asked  for,  and  Bowser  rushed  home 
and  flung  the  package  into  my  lap  with: 

"  Been  gone  just  thirty-seven  minutes  by  the  watch,  while  you 
would  have  been  fooling  around  three  afternoons.  There's  twelve 
full  yards,  and  if  you  have  any  pieces  left  you  can  line  my  overcoat 
sleeves." 

"  Twelve  yards  !  Why,  I  never  get  less  than  twenty-three  !  Don't 
you  see  how  narrow  silk  is  ?  " 

"  Urn  !  I  thought  it  was  sheeting  width,  of  course.  That's  another 
fraud  I'm  going  to  look  to." 

"And  the  shades  —  I  can't  wear  'em — no  one  could." 

"  You  can't  !  Well,  you  will,  all  the  same !  This  talk  about 
matching  the  complexion  with  dress  goods  is  the  twaddle  of  idiots  ! 
If  green  and  blue  won't  hit  you,  then  let  her  miss  !  It's  my  taste, 
and  I  think  I  know  what  belongs  to  harmony.  We'll  go  down  after 
supper  and  get  some  dressmaker  to  begin  work." 

"  But  I  know  what  she'll  say." 

"  Oh  !  you  do  !    Well,  you  leave  that  to  me;  I'm  bossing  this  job, 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  85 

Mrs.  Bowser,  and   I'll   teach   you   a   thing    or   two  before   we  get 
ihrough  !  " 

After  supper  we  drove  down  town  to  a  dressmaker's.  As  we  got 
3ut  of  the  carriage  Bowser  charged  me  to  keep  my  mouth  shut  and 
let  him  do  the  talking,  and  1  cheerfully  promised  obedience.  He 
carried  the  bundle  under  his  arm,  and  as  we  entered  the  shop  he 
asked : 

"  Will  you  take  a  contract  to  build  Mrs.  Bowser  a  dress  and  have 
it  finished  at  a  certain  date  ?  " 

"  Let  me  see  the  goods,"  she  replied ;  but  no  sooner  had  she 
Dpened  the  package  than  she  asked  : 

"  Is  it  some  fancy  skirt  for  the  circus  ring  ?  " 

"  Circus  ring  !  "  he  whooped,  "  what  is  there  about  these  goods 
to  remind  you  of  a  circus  ring  ?  " 

"  The  colors." 

"Mrs.  Bowser,"  he  said  as  he  turned  to  me,  "we  will  go  else- 
where. It  is  evident  that  this  person  has  come  out  of  some  door 
[knob  factory  to  take  up  dressmaking." 

At  the  second  place  the  dressmaker  smiled  as  she  saw  the  colors, 
and  replied  that  she  wouldn't  think  of  beginning  work  without 
twenty-four  yards  of  silk  at  hand. 

"  Then  you'll  never  begin  !  "  exclaimed  Bowser.  "  It's  high  time 
the  long-suffering  public  kicked  against  this  dressmaking  robbery. 
When  I  buy  twelve  yards  of  silk  for  a  dressmaker  to  steal,  you  can 
expect  I'm  going  to  die  the  next  week." 

The  third  dressmaker  seemed  to  understand  the  situation  at  a 
glance.  She  opened  the  silk,  rolled  it  up  again,  and  calmly  but 
firmly  said  : 

"  I'm  very  busy  just  now.  You'd  better  take  it  to  some  black- 
smith shop !  " 

Then  we  went  home  for  the  night.  Bowser  was  mad  and  wouldn't 
speak  to  me,  and  as  he  slept  he  dreamed  of  dressmakers,  and  I  over- 
heard him  saying  : 

"  Colors  !  I  tell  you  its  all  bosh  !  How  many  horses  and  cows 
do  we  see  of  four  or  five  colors  !  " 

The  next  day  we  visited  twelve  other  dressmakers.     Two  of  them 


86  ELOCUTIONAL Y  STUDIES. 

called  Mr.  Bowser  an  old  fool,  and  four  others  laughed  in  his  face, 
while  the  other  six  refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the  dress. 
When  we  left  the  last  place  he  said  : 

"  Mrs.  Bowser,  I  m  a  man  who  can't  be  bulldozed.  Those  dress- 
makers have  formed  a  ring  to  steal  cloth  and  keep  up  prices.  I'll 
beat  'em  at  their  own  game.  We'll  wait  until  we  go  to  New  York 
and  then  buy  a  ready-made  dress." 

When  we  got  home  he  called  the  cook  into  the  sitting-room  and 
gave  her  the  silk,  and  she  thanked  him  kindly  and  added  : 

"  It  comes  in  very  handy,  Mr.  Bowser,  for  my  sister  is  a  tight-rope 
performer  and  wants  a  new  costume." 

I  couldn't  help  laughing,  and  Mr.  Bowser  hasn't  spoken  to  me 
since. 


WINNIFRED,  WALTER,  AND  THE  W'S. 

The  following  is  excellent  not  only  for  practice  on  the  W's,  but  much  variety 
of  tone,  time,  force  and  pitch  may  be  thrown  into  it.  It  makes  a  good  encore 
selection,  as  many  people  are  pleased  to  hear  what  seems  to  have  been  a  great 
effort  of  memory  to  acquire.  It  is  a  good  exercise  for  pupils  to  compose  and 
afterward  read  similar  compositions. 


|  Cheerily. \ 

\\1 ARM  weather,  Walter  !   Welcome  warm  weather  !   We  were 
V  V       wishing  winter  would  wane,  weren't  we  ?  " 

[Languidly.] 

"  We  were  well  wearied  with  waiting,"  whispered  Walter  wearily. 
Wan,  white,  woebegone  was  Walter — wayward,  willful,  worn  with 
weakness,  wasted,  waxing  weaker  whenever  winter's  wild,  withering 
winds  were  wailing. 

[Descriptively.] 

Wholly  without  waywardness  was  Winifred,  Walter's  wise,  womanly 
watcher,  who,  with  winsome,  wooing  ways,  was  well-beloved. 

\Coaxingly.\ 

"  We  won't  wait,  Walter ;  while  weather'?  warm  we'll  wander 
where  wood-lands  wave  ;  won't  we  ?  " 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  87 

[Descriptively .  ] 

Walter's  wonted  wretchedness  wholly  waned. 

[Joyously.] 

"Why,  Winnie,  we'll  walk  where  we  went  with  Willie;  we'll 
weave  wild-flower  wreaths,  watch  workmen  working,  worms  wrig- 
gling, wind-mills  whirling,  water-mills  wheeling;  we  will  win  wild 
whortleberries,  witness  wheat  winnowed." 

[Descriptively.'] 

Wisbeach  Woods  were  white  with  wild-flowers;  warm  westerly 
winds  whispered  where  willows  were  waving;  wood-pigeons,  wrens, 
wood-peckers  were  warbling.  Where  Wisbeach  water  mill's  waters, 
which  were  wholly  waveless,  widened  were  water-lilies  waxen  white. 
Winifred  wove  wreaths  with  woodbine,  white-thorn,  wall-flowers, 
while  Walter  whittled  wooden  wedges  with  willow  wands. 

[Quickly.] 

Wholly  without  warning,  wild,  wet  winds  woke  within  Wisbeach 
Woods,  whistling  where  Winifred  wandered  with  Walter  ;  weeping 
[pathetic ally]  willows  were  wailing,  [heavily  and  rapidly]  waging 
war  with  wind-tossed  waters. 

[Hurriedly.] 

"  Walter,  we  won't  wait." 

"  Which  way,  Winnie  ?  " 

[Hesitatingly .  ] 

Winifred  wavered. 

[Quickly.] 

Without  waiting,  Willie  was  within  Winston's  wood-work  walls. 

[Rapturously^] 

"  Welcome,  welcome,  Willie  !  " 

[  Wearily.] 

Winnie  was  weeping  with  weariness,  with  watching  Walter,  with 
wayfaring. 

f  Encouragingly ■.] 

"  Why,  Winnie  !  Avise,  watchful,  warm-hearted  Winnie  !  "  Willie 
whispered  wheediingly,  "  we  won't  weep ;  Walter's  well.  What 
were  Walter  without  Winnie  ?  " 


88  EL OCUTIONAR  Y  STUDIES. 

[Admiringly.] 

Wholly  wonderful  was  Winifred's  womanly  wisdom,  which  well 
warranted  weakly  Walter's  welfare.  [Descriptively.]  Whenever 
wandering  within  Wisbeach  Woods  with  Winnie,  Walter  would 
whisper,  [praisingly],  "What  were  Walter  without  Winnie — watch- 
ful, wise,  warm-hearte  d  Winnie  ?  " 


THE  CHANT  OF  THE  CROSS-BEARING 
CHILD. 


James  Whitcomb  Riley. 


( A  good  exercise  in  negro  dialect.  ) 

I  BEAR  dis  cross  dis  many  a  mile, 
O  de  cross-bearin'  chile — 

De  cross-bearin'  chde  ! 

I  bear  dis  cross  'long  many  a  road 
Wha'  de  pink  ain't  bloomed  an'  de  grass  ain't  growed 
O  de  cross-bearin'  chile — 

De  cross-bearin'  chile  ! 

Hit's  on  my  conscience  all  dese  days 
Fo'  ter  bear  de  cross  ut  de  good  Lord  lays 
On  my  po'  soul,  an'  ter  lif '  my  praise. 
O  de  cross-bearin'  chile — 

De  cross-bearin'  chile  ! 

I's  nigh-'bout  weak  ez  I  mos'  kin  be, 
Yit  de  Mastah  call,  an'  He  say,  "  You's  free 
Fo'  ter  'cept  dis  cross  an'  ter  cringe  yo'  knee 
To  no  n'er  man  in  de  worl'  but  me  !  " 
O  de  cross-bearin'  chile — 

De  cross-bearin'  chile  ! 

Says  you  guess  wrong  ef  I  let  you  guess- 
Says  you  'spect  more  an'-a  you  git  less — 
Says  you  go  eas',  says  you  go  wes', 


EL  0  C  UTIONAR  Y  STUDIES. 

An'  whense  you  fin'  de  road  ut  you  like  bes' 
You  betteh  tak  chice  er  any  er  de  res'  ! 
O  de  cross-bearin'  chile — 

De  cross-bearin'  chile ! 

He  build  my  feet  an'  he  fix  de  signs 
Dat  de  shoe  hit  pinch  an'  de  shoe  hit  bines 
Ef  I  wear  eights  an-a  wanter  wear  nines  ; 
An'  I  hope  fo'  de  rain  an'  de  sun  it  shines, 
An'  whilse  I  hunt  de  sun  hit's  de  rain  I  fines— 

0  a  trim  my  lamp  an'-a  gyrd  my  lines  ! 

O  de  cross  bearin'  chile — 

De  cross-bearin'  chile  ! 

1  wade  de  wet  an'  I  walk  de  dry ; 

I  done  tromp  long  an'  I  done  clim'  high  ; 
An'  I  pilgrim  on  ter  de  golding  sky, 
A'  I  taken  der  resk  fo'  ter  cas'  my  eye 
Wha'  de  gate  swing  wide  an'  de  Lord  draw  nigh, 
An'  de  trump  hit  blow  an'  I  hear  de  cry — 
"  You  lay  dat  cross  down  by-an'-by  ! 
O  de  cross-bearin'  chile — 

De  cross-bearin'  chile  !  " 


LITTLE   BO-PEEP  AND   LITTLE  BOY  BLUE 


Samuel  Minturn   Peck 


(Recitation  for  a  little  child.) 

IT  happened  one  morning  that  little  Bo-Peep, 
While  watching  her  frolicsome,  mischievous  sheep 
Out  in  the  meadow,  fell  fast  asleep. 

But  her  wind-blown  tresses  and  rose-leaf  pout, 

And  her  dimpling  smile,  you'd  have  guessed,  no  doubt, 

'Twas  love,  love,  love,  she  was  dreaming  about, 


9o  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

As  she  lay  there  asleep  came  little  Boy  Blue, 
Right  over  the  stile  where  the  daisies  grew ; 
Entranced  by  the  picture  he  stopped  in  the  dew. 

So  wildly  bewitching  that  beautiful  morn 
Was  Little  Bo-Peep,  that  he  dropped  his  horn 
And  thought  no  more  of  the  cows  in  the  corn. 

Our  sorrows  are  many,  our  pleasures  are  few  ; 
Oh,  moment  propitious  !     What  could  a  man  do  ? 
He  kissed  that  wee  lassie,  that  little  Boy  Blue  ! 

At  the  smack  the  woolies  stood  all  in  a  row, 

And  whispered  each  other  :  "  We're  clearly  de  trop. 

Such  conduct  is  perfectly  shocking  —  let's  go  I" 


MENTAL  ARITHMETIC. 


TEACHER.  [In  a  very  encouraging  tone.~\  If  there  were  three 
peaches  on  the  table,  Johnny,  and  your  little  sister  should 
eat  one  of  them,  how  many  would  be  left  ? 

Johnny. — [Thin,  high  voice.']  How  many  little  sisters  would  be 
left? 

T. — [A  little  reproachfully.']  Do  listen,  Johnny!  [slowly  and  in 
a  very  precise  way.]  If  there  were  three  peaches  on  the  table,  and 
your  little  sister  should  eat  one,  how  many  would  be  left  ? 

J. — We  haven't  had  a  peach  in  the  house  this  year,  let  alone  three. 

T. — We  are  only  supposing  the  peaches  to  be  on  the  table, 
Johnny. 

J. — [With  innocent  tone.]     Then  they  wouldn't  be  real  peaches? 

T.— No. 

J. — Would  they  be  preserved  peaches  ? 

T. — Certainly  not. 

J. — Pickled  peaches? 


LLOCUTIONAR  V  STUDIES.  9 1 

T. — [Getting  quite  exasperated.]  No,  no!  there  wouldn't  beany 
peaches  at  all.  I  told  you,  Johnny,  we  only  suppose  the  three 
peaches  to  be  there. 

J. — [As  if  he  understands  and  fully  agrees  with  the  teacher.']  Then 
there  wouldn't  be  any  peaches,  of  course. 

T. — Now,  Johnny,  put  that  knife  into  your  pocket,  or  I  will  take  it 
away,  and  pay  attention  to  what  I  am  saying.  We  imagine  three 
peaches  to  be  on  the  table. 

J.— Yes. 

T. — And  your  little. sister  eats  one  of  them,  and  then  goes  away. 

J. — Yes,  but  she  wouldn't  go  away ;  you  don't  know  my  little 
sister. 

T. — But  suppose  your  mother  was  there  and  wouldn't  let  her  eat 
but  one  ? 

J. — Mother's  out  of  town  and  won't  be  back  till  next  week. 

T. — [Sternly.]  Now,  Johnny,  I  will  put  the  question  once  more, 
and  if  you  do  not  answer  it  correctly  I  shall  keep  you  after  school. 
If  three  peaches  were  on  the  table  and  your  little  sister  were  to  eat 
one  of  them,  how  many  would  be  left? 

J. — There  wouldn't  be  any  peaches  left  ;  [laughing]  I'd  grab  the 
other  two. 

T. — The  scholars  are  now  dismissed  ;  Johnny  White  will  remain 
where  he  is. 


TWO  VALENTINES. 


May  Riley  Smith. 


The  one  poem,  "Tired  Mothers,"  written  by  this  author,  would  have  made  her 
famous,  had  she  never  dipped  her  pen  in  ink  again.  Many  a  mother,  on  both 
sides  of  the  Atlantic,  who  has  seen  the  grass  growing  over  a  little  grave,  has 
said: 

"  If  I  could  mend  a  broken  cart  to-day, 

To-morrow  make  a  kite  to  reach  the  sky, 
There's  no  woman  in  God's  world  could  say 

She  was  more  blissfully  content  than  I. 
But,  ah  !   the  dainty  pillow  next  my  own 

Is  never  rumpled  by  a  shining  head, 
My  singing  birdling  from  its  nest  is  flown — 

The  little  boy  I  used  to  kiss  is  dead." 


92  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

If  anything  would  tempt  us  into  publishing  an  old  selection  in  this  boolj 
it  is  "fired  Mothers,"  but  we  will  stop  with  the  stanza  quoted  above.  MaM 
Riley  Smith  is  a  dainty  singing-bird  of  the  hoine-nest,  and  her  verses  are  alway I 
exquisite.  We  could  fill  the  book  with  them.  The  "Two  Valentines"  i 
quaint  and  touching.  The  happiness. of  Meg,  the  mirth  of  Maude,  the  compleU 
reconstruction  of  Tom,  are  made  clear ;  and  the  reader  is  in  close  sympathy  wit] 
them  all  from  first  to  last. 


ONE  was  the  loveliest  thing  !  a  pink  sachet, 
Trimmed  with  soft  ribbons  and  point  applique, 
While  heliotropes  upon  a  rosy  field 
The  daintiest  of  perfumes  seemed  to  yield. 

Give  final  stress  on  "loveliest,"  radical  on  "pink  sachet  (pro- 
nounced sash-a),  .ribbons  and  point  applique  "  (pronounced  ap-pli- 
kay).  Emphasize  "  heliotropes  ; "  quicken  time  upon  the  preposi- 
tional phrase  "  upon  a  rosy  field";  make  rising  slide  of  a  fifth  on 
"  daintiest,"  and  emphasize  "  perfumes." 

Tom  thought  it  just  the  thing  ;  and  then  he  knew 
The  nicest  girl  in  town  would  think  so,  too ; 
And,  best  of  all,  within  the  folds  there  lay 
A  valentine  whose  verses  read  this  way : 

Give  rising  slide  of  a  fifth  on  "just  the,"  and  falling  on  "  thing;" 
radical  stress  on  "  the  nicest  girl  in  town  would  think  ;  "  falling 
wave  on  "  so  ;  "  rising  on  "  too  ;  "  rising  slide  on  "  best  of;  "  falling 
on  "  all,"  and  emphasize  strongly  the  word  of  value,  which  is 
"  valentine." 

"  What  is  daintier,  can  you  tell, 

Than  lichen  groves,  where  the  fairies  dwell  ? 

"  What  is  a  still  more  delicate  thing 
Than  the  silken  stuff  of  a  butterfly's  wing? 

"  What  has  a  lining,  do  you  think, 

As  fair  as  the  mushroom's  fluted  pink  ? 

"Are  you  so  dull  ?     Why,  the  purest  thing 
Is  the  heart  of  the  girl  whose  praises  I  sing." 


ELOCUTIONAR  V  STUDIES.  93 

Give  continuous  rising  slide  on  "  What  is  dain-,"  falling  on 
"-tier,"  compound  stress  on  "you,  tell,  lichen,  groves,  fairies, 
dwell "  (Webster  gives  preference  for  the  pronunciation  li-ken, 
but  allows  lich-en.  Smart  gives  li-ken,  when  used  as  a  medical 
word,  and  lich-en  as  a  botanical  term.  Custom  shows  more  use  of 
the  first  pronunciation  than  the  last) ;  emphasize  "  more,"  falling 
slide  on  "  delicate,"  compound  stress  ending  with  rising  inflection 
on  "  thing,"  emphasis  of  a  fifth  on  "  butterfly's,"  compound  stress  on 
'"  wing,"  falling  wave  on  "  lining,"  continuous  rising  slide  on  "  As 
fair  as  the  mush-,"  falling  on  "  -room's,"  compound  rising  slide  of  an 
octave  on  "  dull,"  continuous  rising  slide  on  "  the  heart  of  the," 
falling  on  "  girl,"  pause  after  "  girl." 

This  he  addressed  to  Miss  Maude  Alice  Browne. 
Another — how  I  blush  to  write  it  down — 
He  sent  in  spite  to  poor  lame  Meg  McCray, 
Who  won  the  prize  in  algebra  that  day. 

Emphasize  "  Maude  Alice  Browne,  Meg  McCray  (and)  algebra," 
as  they  are  the  words  of  value  in  this  stanza. 

"  There  is  a  young  person  I  know, 
Whose  shoes  are  all  out  at  the  toe ; 

She  has  very  large  feet, 

Her  gown  is  not  neat, 
And  her  petticoats  hang  down  below. 

"  I  may  ride  a  broom  to  the  sky, 
A  snow-storm  may  fall  in  July, 

And  my  slovenly  friend, 

Her  habits  may  mend  f 
But  do  you  believe  it  ?     Not  I." 

Read  the  first  five  lines  rather  rapidly,  emphasize  the  italicized 
words,  continuous  rising  slide  on  direct  question  "  Do  you  believe 
it,"  with  compound  stress  on  "  believe ;  "  a  decided  shake  of  the 
head  will  accompany  "  Not  I." 

But  can  you  tell  how  it  came  about 

That  Miss  Maude  Alice  Browne,  with  laugh  and  shout, 


94  •  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

Received  Meg's  valentine  ?     And,  strange  to  tell, 
Miss  Meg  McCray  received  Miss  Browne's,  as  well. 

Compound  stress  on  "tell,  came,  about,  Browne,  Meg's,  valen- 
tine." Last  line  must  be  read  so  as  to  show  a  keen  sense  of  the  humor, 
with  contrasted  words  "  McCray  "  and  "  Browne's"  receiving  con- 
trasting inflections. 

"  O,  Tom !  "  Meg  cried  with  innocent,  round  eyes, 
"  I've  had  the  dearest  kind*  of  a  surprise! 
Now,  who  could  love  a  poor,  plain  girl  like  me 
Enough  to  send  this  valentine  — just  see  ! 

When  saying  "  O,  Tom,"  the  gesture,  right  hand  prone,  horizontal 
oblique,  is  made  as  if  to  call  the  attention  of  the  young  man;  "dear- 
est" is  given  with  hands  clasped  joyfully  ;  "  enough  to  send  this — " 
both  hands  vertical,  raised  in  surprise  and  a  graceful  movement  out- 
ward is  given,  with  both  hands  supine  and  horizontal  front  on 
"  valentine."  A  gesture  as  if  extending  the  paper  on  "just  see." 
The  voice  expresses  glee  as  the  first  words  are  uttered.  Intense 
pleasure  on  "  dearest;"  and  there  is  a  little  dash  of  tearful  joy  as  she 
slowly  and  a  bit  tremulously  says  "  a  poor,  plain  girl  like  me,"  cul- 
minating in  a  tone  entirely  pleasurable  on  "  valentine."  "  Just  see" 
is  said  with  a  little  victorious  flourish  of  voice. 

"  If  I  were  rich  like  Miss  Maude  Alice  Browne, 
And  pretty,  too  —  why  Tom,  what  makes  you  frown  ? 
It  could  not  be  so  sweet  to  me,  you  know, 
To  feel  that  some  kind  person  loved  me  so. 

A  look  of  surprise  comes»into  her  face  on  "  why  Tom,  what  makes 
you  frown  ?" 

"  But  now,  whenever  things  seem  hard  to  bear, 
I  think  it  will  be  easier  not  to  care, 
Because  I  shall  remember,  don't  you  see  ? 
That  some  one  sent  this  valentine  to  me." 

The  pleasure  and  confidence  shown  in  the  delivery  of  these  lines 
bring  Tom  to  time.  He  forgives  the  lame  girl  for  winning  the 
prize  ;    he  almost  applauds  himself  for  sending  the  verses,  and  is 


ELOCUTIONAR Y  STUDIES.  95 

finally  in  full  sympathy  with  the  happy  Meg.     All  this  is  told  in  the 
following  stanza  : 

Tom  looked  perplexed.     What  could  the  fellow  do 
But  say,  "  Well,  Meg,  I'm  just  as  glad  as  you  !  " 
And  so  he  was  ;  the  jealous  fiend  had  flown, 
And  in  hid  eyes  a  true  repentance  shown. 

And  Miss  Maude  Alice  Browne  ?     She  laughed  with  glee, 
.  "  Who  could  have  sent  this  horrid  thing  to  me  ? 
Well,  it's  a  joke,  and  here's  the  best  of  it, 
It  doesn't  hurt  because  it  doesn't  hit." 

On  the  second  line   there    should  be  a  hearty  laughter  running 
through.     The  words  of  value  are  "  joke,  best,  hurt,  hit." 

That  night  Tom's  sister  touched  him  on  the  knee, 
"  I  say,  dear  Tom,"  she  said  mischievously, 
"  I  wonder  :f  the  Lord  will  credit  you 
With  what  you  did,  or  what  you  meant  to  do  ?  " 

There  will  be  a  playful  gesture  of  the  head  as  well  as  hand  on  the 
italicized  words  "did"  and  "meant.'" 


MIRANDY. 


Eva  Wilder    McGlasson. 


(Yankee  dialect.) 


WHEN  she  looks  sad,  somehow  I  jes' 
Fly  'roun'  an'  do  my  level  bes' 
Ter  cheer  her  up  a  leetle  mite, 
An'  make  them  eyes  o'  hern  git  bright. 

An'  ef  she  lies  a  sort  o'  frown, 
I  grow  plumb  scart  from  eyelids  down; 
But  when  she  smiles,  I  kinder  feel 
Rale  spankin'  good  from  head  to  heel. 


96  ELOCUTIONAR Y  STUDIES. 

An'  yet,  she's  jes'  a  brown-eyed  slip 
O'  crittur,  with  a  onder  lip 
Thet  'pears  ez  ef  a  bumble-bee 
Hed  stung  it  acciden'ally. 

An'  yeller  hair  thet  curls  up  tight 
Aroun'  a  neck  thet's  spang  snow  white ; 
An'  sech  a  voice  ! — I'm  free  ter  say 
The  angels  'bout  talk  that-a-way. 

Why,  when  she  sings,  I  tell  you  all, 
A  trem'lin'  rap'ure  'pears  ter  crawl 
Cl'ar  up  the  middle  o'  my  back, 
Jes'  like  the  agur,  fer  a  fac' ! 

O'  course  I  know  I'm  nigh  a  mos' 
A  fool  about'n  her — but  'spose 
You  hed  six  sons,  like  me'n  Maw, 
An'  jes'  one  gal  ter  call  you  "  Paw  ?  " 


THE    HEN-HUSSY. 


(Good  for  an  encore.) 


TV  TY  husband  cost  me   a  good   girl  last  week  by  one   of  his 

1V1  whirns."  said  Mrs.  Bowser.  "  I  happened  to  wonder  aloud 
during  the  evening  if  Bridget  had  put  her  bread  to  rise,  when  he 
promptly  inquired : 

"  '  Mrs.  Bowser,  do  you  know  why  bread  rises  ?' 

"  :  Because  of  the  yeast.' 

"  '  But  why  does  the  yeast  expand  the  dough  ?' 

"  '  Because  it  does.' 

"  '  Exactly.  You  also  live  because  you  do,  and  that's  all  you 
know  about  it !  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your  ignorance  of 
natural  philosophy.     I'll  see  if  the  girl  knows  any  better,' 

"  He  went  out  and  inquired  : 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  97 

"  '  Bridget,  have  you  put  the  bread  to  rise  ?' 

"  '  Yes,  sir.' 

"  '  Do  you  expect  it  to  rise  ?' 

"  «  Of  course.' 

"  '  Why  don't  you  expect  it  to  fall  ?' 

"  '  Are  you  running  this  kitchen  ?'  she  sharply  demanded. 

"  '  Virtually,  yes.  My  object  is  to  see  how  well  you  are  posted 
on  natural  philosophy.     Why  does  the  bread  rise  instead  of  fall  ?' 

"  '  Because  it's  a  fool,  and  I'm  another  fo:  staying  in  a  place 
where  a  man  is  allowed  to  hen-hussy  about  the  kitchen  !  I'll  leave 
in  the  morning.' 

"  And  leave  she  did,  and  all  the  consolation  I  got  from  Mr. 
Bowser,  as  he  came  up  to  dinner,  was :  '  It's  a  good  thing  she  left. 
She  might  have  mixed  something  together  which  would  have  caused 
our  deaths.     Come,  now,  hurry  up  the  dinner.'" 


THE    SPRING    POET 


Hal   Berte. 


There  is  an  opportunity  for  excellent  action   on  this  little  thing.     It  has  been 
found  particularly  good  as  an  encore. 

T'LL  sing,"  said  the  poet,  "a  song  on  Spring — " 

1     The  editor  murmured,  "  Hush  ! 
On  a  newer  theme  let  fancy  wing 

And  leave  this  Springtide  gush 
To  the  thousand,  thousand  busy  pens 

That  write  on  this  one  thing. 
Eschew,  if  you  have  a  grain  of  sense, 

This  hackneyed  subject,  Spring." 

"  I'll  sing,"  said  the  poet,  "  a  song  on  Spring — " 

The  editor  shook  his  head  ; 
"  If  you  do,"  said  he,  "  I'll  get  a  gun 

And  bore  you  through  with  lead, 


98  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

For  three-score  poems  have  come  to-day 

To  me  on  postal  wing, 
And  out  of  these,  I  grieve  to  say, 

Three-fourths  are  labeled  '  Spring.'  " 

"  I'll  sing,"  said  the  poet,  "  a  song  on  Spring—1"' 

The  editor  then  uprose 
And  he  smote  that  bard  with  fists  full  hard 

In  swift-descending  blows. 
"  Hold  !  hold  !"  the  frightened  poet  cried, 

"  Forego  this  cruel  lickin'! 
I  meant  not  verses  on  Springtide, 

But  verses  on  Spring — chicken." 


THE    FATE   OF    MACKAY. 


Noah    Little. 

THERE  lived  a  young  man  called  Mackay, 
Near  by, 
Who  trembled  and  felt  very  shy. 

My  eye  ! 
If  a  girl  would  smile,  he  would  run  for  a  mile, 
So  bashful  a  man  was  Mackay. 

Hooch  ay! 
So  bashful  a  man  was  Mackay. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  this  never  will  do. 

That's  true. 
My  chances  for  courtships  fall  through  — 

They  do, 
Why,  they'd  jump  at  the  chance  if  I  made  an  advance, 
And  snap  at  a  man  like  Mackay. 

Hooch  ay  ! 
They'd  snap  at  a  man  like  Mackay. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  99 

"  The  first  time  I  meet  with  sweet  Kate, 

Though  blate, 
I'm  determined  to  find  out  my  fate, 

Ere  late. 
I'll  fall  down  on  my  knees,  give  her  hand  the  least  squeeze, 
And  say,  '  become  Mrs.  Mackay.' 

Hooch  ay  ! 
I'll  say,  '  Become  Mrs.  Mackay.' " 

But  when  the  proud  lass  said  "  No, 

Now  go  !  " 
That  was  indeed  a  sad  blow, 

You  know.  I 

It  did  not  break  his  heart ;  it  might  well  give  a  start, 
To  refuse  a  man  like  Mackay. 

Hooch  ay ! 
To  refuse  a  man  like  Mackay. 

But,  "  There's  plenty  more  fish  in  the  sea," 

Said  he  ; 
"  And  there's  lots  of  nice  girls  would  have  me, 

If  free." 
So  he  just  tried  some  more,  till  he  asked  at  least  four 
To  comfort  the  heart  of  Mackay 

Hooch  ay  ! 
To  comfort  the  heart  of  Mackay. 

But  when  he  at  last  got  a  wife  — 

From  Fife  ; 
His  troubles  soon  began  to  be  rife, 

In  life. 
He'd  to  clean  up  the  floor,  wash  the  bairns,  mind  the  door, 
Which  wasn't  the  real  Mackay. 

Hooch  ay ! 
That  wasn't  the  real  Mackay. 


roo-  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

'Twas  no  wonder  Mackay  pined  away, 

Each  day; 
His  teeth  fell  out,  his  hair  turned  gray, 

They  say. 
Now,  when  dead,  he  can't  rest,  but  his  spirit  distress'd, 
Wanders  crying,  "  Remember  Mackay  !  " 

Hooch  ay  ! 
Wanders  crying,  "  Remember  Mackay  !  " 

Now  the  moral  which  I  would  employ, 

My  boy, 
If  your  happiness  you  would  destroy, 

Like  Troy, 
Is  marry  in  haste,  and  you'll  repent  it  at  least 
As  quickly  as  did  poor  Mackay. 

Hooch  ay ! 
As  quickly  as  did  poor  Mackay. 


THE    JEFFUL. 


John    Habberton. 


Nobody  can  write  better  baby-patois  than  Mr.  Habberton.  This  is  proved  in 
"  Helen's  Babies,"  which  has  been  read  by  everybody  in  this  country  and  trans- 
lated into  many  languages.  It  is  in  part  a  true  story.  Budge  and  Toddy  were 
real  children,  only  their  mother's  name  was  Alice  and  not  Helen. 

"Just  One  Day  "  is  the  story  of  a  mother's  life  for  the  time  stated,  but  it  covers 
174  pages  of  the  book.  "  The  Jefful  "  is  the  baby's  pet  name  for  "  the  dreadful." 
The  mother  gets  the  child  to  sleep  and  then  attempts  to  rip  up  a  dress  which  she 
wishes  to  repair.  The  baby  wakes  too  soon  and  runs  through  the  whole  gamut 
of  its  temper.  When  one  can  give  imitations  of  the  baby  scale  of  expression,  the 
recitation  becomes  very  effective.  The  sound  of  ripping' cloth  must  also  be  intro- 
duced. It  is  impossible  to  describe  upon  paper  the  method  of  producing  these 
imitations,  but  the  publisher  of  this  book  will  recommend,  upon  application, 
teachers  who  are  fully  competent  to  give  oral  instruction  upon  the  subject. 


SHE  began  ripping  the  binding  from  the  bottom  of  the  skirt,  and 
was  getting   along   nicely,   when  she    heard  in  the  adjoining 
room    a    very    sweet    voice     remarking     [cooing   good-naturedly\, 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.^  101 

"  Obboo  gobboo  yabbee  yabbee  ah  hoo  um  boo  baa.     Iddy,  iddy, 
iddy,  iddy." 

There  was  no  Greek  or  other  unknown  tongue  to  mamma  about 
this  ;  it  was.  perfectly  intelligible,  and  it  meant  that  The  Jefful  was 
beginning  to  get  ready  to  begin  to  want  to  get  up. 

Then  there  was  a  spirited  race  between  mamma  and  The  Jefful, 
the  former  endeavoring  to  get  all  the  braid  ripped  off  before  the 
latter  should  reach  that  point  where  she  might  legitimately  insist 
upon  arising.  Rip,  rip,  rip  went  the  blade  of  mamma's  little  knife 
upon  the  stitches. 

[A  little  more  spirit  on  the  part  of  the  baby']  "  Bibble,  bubble-ob- 
;ob-ob-ob-ob,"  said  The  Jefful,  and  again  the  little  knife  said.  "  Rip, 
trip,  rip." 

[  With  coaxing  tone,  as  if  playing  with  one  of  its  pink  feet.]    "Attee 
ipattee  okky  pokkey  poo,"  remarked  The  Jefful,  and  the  knife  said : 
"  Rip,  rip,  rip-rip-rip." 

Then  The  Jefful  stuffed  one  of  her  big  toes  in  her  mouth,  and  took 

a  rest  for  about  two  minutes,  and  the  knife  had  gained  nearly  a  yard 

before  its  antagonist  resumed  with:       \Be ginning  sweetly  but  ending 

i  in  a  decided  squall,]   "Appee-chip-ah-wa-wa-wa."  "  Rip,  rip— r-r-r- 

i%-r-r-ip."     [Breaking  out  much  louder]   "  Booga.     Ommul  lummy 

ummy  moo." 

This  was  rather  discouraging  to  the  knife,  for  when  The  Jefful  got 
to  the  vowels  that  caused  her  lips  to  protrude  it  generally  indicated 
serious  business  ;   so  the  knife  went : 

' '  R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rip— ip-ip ." 

Then  The  Jefful  refreshed  herself  for  a  moment  or  two  with  her 
thumb  which  gave  the  knife  an  advantage  it  was  not  slow  to  improve 
But  there  was  something  affrighting  in  The  Jefful's  next  remark: 

[  With  pretty  strong  emphasis,  j 

"  Mom-mom-mom-mom-mom-mah  ! 

This  last  exclamation  was  long  drawn  out. 

The  knife  had  but  two  more  yards  to  go  before  completing  its 
work,  and  away  it  flew,  literally  snapping  out  as  mamma  drew  the 
braid  to  its  full  tension. 

[Sound  of  ripping  should  be  made  very  emphatically.] 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 


"  Rip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip." 

The  baby  opened  her  mouth  so  wide  that  she  had  to  shut  her 
eyes  as  she  wailed  out  a  prolonged  "  Ya  !  "  ' 

"  Rip,  rip,  rip  !  "  replied  the  knife. 

[Louder  and  more  energetically.] 

"  Ya  !  " 

"  Rip,  rip,  rip  !  "  replied  the  knife. 

[Louder  and  more  energetically .]     **  Ya  !  " 

[Jumping  a  whole  octave.  ] 

"  Ya-a-a-a-a-a— a— a-a-a-mom-mah  !  " 

By  this  time  every  nerve  in  mamma's  body  had  got  into  that  little 
knife.     Again  The  Jefful  raised  her  voice  and  said  : 

[Screaming  at  top  of  twice.] 

"  Ya-ya-ah-ee-ee-um-um-nga-ya  oobutty  -  ubbut-tub-tub— kup- 
put  non  koo  poo  choo." 

This  stimulated  mamma  to  the  utmost  ;  she  had  only  a  scant  yard 
to  go  —  then  only  two  feet  —  then  only  one  —  then  only  eight  or 
nine  inches. 

Just  then  The  Jefful  started  again,  at  which  mamma  gave  a  harder 
tug  than  usual  at  the  braid,  and  crack  it  went  backward  tearing  a 
strip  several  inches  wide  of  the  facing  and  silk  and  taking  them 
with  it. 

Mamma  dropped  —  threw  the  dress  upon  the  floor,  resisting  a 
vulgar  impulse  to  stamp  and  dance  upon  it,  and  the  face  she  were 
as  she  started  to  take  The  Jefful  boded  nothing  less  than  impalement 
and  subsequent  quartering  to  that  offender.  But  as  mamma  passed 
through  the  door  and  Jefful  saw  her,  the  little  face  lighted  up  joyfully 
as  with  arms  extended  she  crowed  : 

"  Obboo  gobboo  yabby,  iddy,  iddy,  iddy,"  and  mamma,  the  terri- 
ble, the  enraged,  the  avenger,  the  despoiled,  took  her  baby  in  her 
arms  and  didn't  care  one  particle  whether  the  dress  would  be  too 
short,  or  whether  she  could  match  the  silk  so  as  to  cover  the  rent 
with  a  flounce  ; — she  simply  didn't  care  for  anything  but  her  wee, 
pink-cheeked,  bright-eyed  laughing  little  Jefful. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  xo-j 


THE    FIRST  SNOW. 


Ella    Dietz. 


The  author  of  this  poem  has  recited  it  many  times  in  London,  where  it  is  an 
I  especial  favorite. 

(A  comedietta  in  verse.) 


GOOD-BY  !  the  comedy's  over, 
Six  months  of  love  in  the  sun  and  clover, 
Beginning  with  the  sweet  June  weather, 
And  ending  with  this  fall  of  snow. 
Why,  only  yesterday,  you  know, 
While  we  were  tramping  the  woods  together, 
Crushing  the  brown  leaves  under  feet, 
You  found  a  wild-flower.     "  Ah,  how  sweet !" 
You  cried.     "  This  dear  love,  thing 
Is  worth  a  hundred  in  the  Spring." 
And  then  I  smiled,  for  it  seemed  of  late 
We  were  growing  remarkably  stiff  and  straight, 
And  the  words  that  I  wanted  most  to  say 
Came  in  some  strange,  inverted  way. 
When  I  felt  most  tender  I  looked  like  a  clown, 
And  my  compliments  turned  upside  down, 
As  if  they  partook  of  the  common  distortion. 
But  yet  in  this  tangle  I  fancied  a  portion 
Of  the  fault  was  yours.      You  had  a  trick 
Of  tripping  me  up,  when  you  dropped  your  eyes 
And  smiled  ;  then,  with  a  sudden  prick, 
In  went  your  needle  through  and  through 
The  worsted  stuff  into  your  finger. 
Of  course  I  was  sorry.     What  could  I  do  ? 
Kiss  the  little  wounded  place  ; 
Which  act  you  took  with  a  shocking  bad  grace, 
Saying,  "  Repeat,  if  you  can,  that  wise 
Remark  you  were  making  when  I 


104  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

Interrupted."     Then  awkwardly 

I  recount.     Bah  !  why  should  I  linger 

Over  it  now.     When  you  found  that  flower 

I  thought  it  an  omen,  that  this  last  hour 

Might  bring  me  some  little  blossom,  too, 

Just  to  help  me  die  winter  through. 

But  you,  when  you  knew  that  I  must  go, 

Grew  colder  and  colder  ;   then  came  the  snow. 

If  I  wanted  omens,  here  was  one  : 

No  flowers  now,  no  Summer  sun  ; 

And  you,  who  used  to  be  so  merry, 

Distant  and  strange.     If  I  had  begun 

By  holding  over  your  head  a  cherry 

And  saying,  "  I  will  give  you  this 

And  a  loving  heart  and  a  tender  kiss, 

And  guard  you  all  the  days  of  my  life 

If  you  will  promise  to  be  my  wife," 

You'd  have  laughed  a  little  and  tried  to  reach, 

And  asked  me  where  I  learned  that  speech. 

"Out  of  your  nursery  rhymes,  I  take  it; 

Well,  here  is  my  promise — remember  I  make  it 

For  the  sake  of  the  cherry,  sir,  not  for  vou." 

Then  I  should  have  known,  what  before  I  knew, 

That  we  loved  each  other,  just  as  the  birds 

Know  it,  without  the  use  of  words. 

For  words  seemed  futile  between  us  two ; 

Your  face,  your  voice,  your  look,  your  smile 

Told  me  you  loved  me  all  the  while. 

1  think  then  we  had  both  been  able, 

By  saying  the  multiplication  table, 

To  express  our  love.     As  the  fairy  fable 

Tells  of  a  maiden  whose  mouth  dropped  pearls 

(Because  she  was  wise  and  the  best  of  girls), 

So  whenever  we  spoke — it  could  not  be  stopped 

If  we  opened  our  mouths  then  out  love  dropped. 

But  it  did  not  need  that  we  should  speak — 


ELOC UTIONA R  Y  STUDIES.  1 05 

The  light  of  your  eyes,  the  bloom  on  your  cheek, 
Told  more  than  love  verses  written  in  Greek. 
But  how  it  ever  came  to  this : 
That  I  should  somehow  fail  and  miss 
In  holding  you,  I  can't  understand ; 
You  slipped  so  quietly  from  my  hand, 
And  now  a  yawning  wide  abyss 
Divides  us.     No  fallen  tree,  no  rope, 
Nothing  on  which  to  hang  a  hope. 
And  so  I  say  again,  good-bye ; 
This  is  the  end  of  the  comedy. 
******* 
"  May  I  know  what  your  writing,  please  ?  " 
"  Only  a  letter,  something  to  tease 
You  when  I'm  gone." 

"  Are  you  going 
Really  ?     Because  you  see  it's  snowing 
So  fast  now — if  you  go  to-night 
You  know  you  must  start  very  soon — 
Can't  you  wait  till  to-morrow  noon  ?  " 
"  I  think  IVe  waited  too  long  already; 
This  is  a  snow-storm." 

That  remark 
Remained  unanswered  over  a  minute, 
Then — "  You  can't  cross  the  river  after  dark; 
Please  stay  " — with  a  voice  unsteady. 
Was  the  goal  at  hand  ?     Could  I  win  it  ? 
Then  suddenly  all  grew  light ! 
Ah  !   the  snow  may  go  as  it  came ; 
My  heart  leaped  up  as  a  flame 
From  the  embers — I  knew  she  was  mine ; 
My  arms  grew  strong  to  enfold  her, 
My  lips  came  closer,  and  told  her, 
In  whispers — what  you  must  divine0 


io6  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

THE    PHANTOM    BALL. 


Rosa   Vertner   Jeffrey. 


THERE'S    a    staunch    old    Southern    mansion    near  the    broad 
Potomac  river, 
How  long  it  has  been  standing  there  no  mortal  seems  to  know  ; 
But  the  winds  wail  through  the  chimneys  and  around  the  windows 
shiver, 
As  if  it  had  belonged  to  them  a  century  ago. 

A  look  of  solid  grandeur,  and  quiet  antique  glory, 

Marks  die  quaint,  peaked  attic  windows  and  the  wide,  substantial 
door  ; 
People  say  the  house  is  haunted,  but  no  weird  or  ghostly  story 

Pales  the  sunlight  on  the  threshold  falling  brightly  as  of  yore. 

Yet  within  those  stately  chambers  witching  memories  are  thronging — 
Gleams  of  misty  bridal  vesture,  love-light  born  of  starry  eyes, 

Shades  of  coffined    brows  transfigured,    when,   with    eager,   wistful 
longing, 
Patient  spirits  in  their  parting  had  a  glimpse  of  Paradise. 

There  are  wafts  of  light  and  shadow  from  the  dusk  or  sunny  tresses 

Of  ladies  gliding  gaily  to  the  viol  or  the  flute  ; 
Broken  vows  and  prayerful  partings,  clinging  kisses  and  caresses, 

Left  by  hearts   surcharged  with  passion,  glowing  lips   now  cold 
and  mute. 

Changing  scenes  and  changing  faces,  like  the  panorama  passing, 
While  the  old  clock,  tall  and  spectral,  points  in  warning,  as  of  yore, 

To  the  little  flying  minutes — Time's  coral  builders — massing 
As  milestones  to  eternity,  the  ages  on  life's  shore. 

Left  alone  unto  my  dreamings,  in  that  mansion  old  and  haunted, 
As  the  midnight  hour  was  sounding  came  sweet  echoes  soft  and 
low. 

From  the  ball-room  up  above  me :   it  must  surely  be  enchanted, 
For  footsteps  there  were  gliding — swiftly  gliding  to  and  fro. 


ELOCUTIONAL  Y  STUDIES.  i 07 

On  it  swept,  my  senses  thrilling,  and  the  solemn  silence  rifting, 
Till  my  pulses  throbbed  in  rhythm  with  the  pulses  of  the  air — 

A  wave  of  magic  melody  my  very  soul  uplifting, 

Till  in  fancy's  wake  I  followed  up  the  dark,  old-fashioned  stair. 

I  knew  they  must  be  .spirits,  a  gay  crowd  of  spectres  dancing, 

In  that  now  moon-silvered  chamber  where  they  danced  in  bygone 
days, 
When  it  shone  a  brilliant  ball-room,  but,  as  then,  bright  lights  were 
glancing 
'Neath  the  doors  and  through  the  keyholes — lo  !  the  room  was  in 
a  blaze. 

To  a  keyhole  observation  then  I  stooped  ;  it  was  entrancing. 

Oh  !   ghost-land,  thy  rich  jewels  and  thy  satins  and  thy  gold, 
iHave  a  marvelous  glamor,  and  thy  ladies  gaily  glancing 

Through  the  minuet,  a  beauty  that  is  wondrous  to  behold. 

And  thy  cavaliers  too  charming,  with  their  spirit-land  afflatus, 
To  meet  in  nightly  revels  very  often,  heaven  knows, 

Without  some  queer  comparisons,  which  might  affect  the  status, 
And  unsettle  the  proud  prestige  of  earth's  self-approving  beaux. 

All  so  courtly  in  their  deference  to  the  fair  ones,  who  maintained 
Such  a  queenly  pose  in  walzing,  spite  their  undulating  grace, 

And  their  flowing,  powdered  tresses,  that  no  tell  tale  dust  remained 
On    their    partners'    dark    coats,   telling   of  the  ball-room's  close 
embrace. 

Growing  bolder  and  more  eager,  I  arose,  and,  slyly  creeping, 

All  unnoticed  by  their  ghostships,  through  a  partly  opened  door, 

And  past  a  lovely  lady,  who,  with  Lafayette,  was  sweeping 

To  a  grand  and  stately  measure,  through  the  menuct  de  la  cour. 

With  our  own  immortal  Washington,  to  lighter  measures  flying, 
I  danced  a  wild  fandango,  till  some  woman  shrieked, — "Away, — 

Thou  art  mortal."      I  ignored  her,  even  female  ghosts  are  prying — 
But  felt  put  out  and  defeated  when  the  Frenchman  cried,  "Sortez," 


1 08  ELOCUTIONAR  Y  STUDIES. 

For  a  single  human  presence  broke  the  spells  of  that  weird  meeting 
They  were  severed  by  the  throbbing  of  one  restless  human  heart,  jr! 

As  the  rainbow-tinted  bubbles,  so  beautiful  and  fleeting, 

Are  all  broken  by  the  swiftness  of  the  current  whence  they  start. 

I  beheld  the  head  of  Washington  around  me  glancing, 

With  a  thrill  of  terror,  noting  his  silk-stockinged  limbs  were  lost ;    | 

Lafayette's  head,  disappearing,  left  his  shapely  legs  still  dancing, 
And  I  dreaded  the  misfitting  of  somebody's  glorious  ghost. 

For  the  granddames  fell  to  pieces  in  the  midst  of  their  revolving, 
Jewelled  arms  and  brows  and  bosoms,  starry  eyes,  soft  tresses,  all 

In  a  bright  phantasmagoria  flashing  round  me  and  dissolving, 
As  I  fled  with  cries  of  terror,  from  that  haunted  dancing-hall. 


ESSAY    ON    NECKS.— (By  a  Young  Scientist  J 


Laura  M.   Bronson. 


Of  all  the  school  compositions,  beginning  with  the  famous  one  "  Upon  a  Horse," 
this  is  the  very  best.  It  is,  of  course,  supposed  to  be  read  from  a  paper  in  hand. 
The  reader  comes  out  on  the  platform  with  brisk,  self-reliant  step.  He  makes  a 
short,  stiff  bow,  and  reads  with  a  high-pitched  voice.  His  tone  and  manner 
show  that  he  beiieves  in  himself,  and  has  no  doubts  in  regard  to  the  success  of 
his  reading  or  the  astonishing  value  of  the  production.  He  concludes  in  a  vic- 
torious manner,  makes  a  lower  but  not  less  inflexible  bow  and  stalks  proudly  off 
the  stage.     This  is  one  way.      Let  the  reciter  adopt  another  if  he  have  a  better. 


NECKS  are  very  convenient  to  have.  Bull-frogs  &  toads  don't 
need  them,  except  bull-frogs  when  they  give  concerts  in  the 
midd  e  of  the  night,  when  they  are  very  useful.  Turtles  are  very 
savin'  of  theirs  &  swallow  them  to  get  them  out  of  the  way. 

Men  have  to  have  necks,  too,  or  they  couldn't  be  swung  up  on 
gallowses  to  amuse  women  and  little  boys  at  hangin'  bees. 

A  giraff  has  a  neck  growin'  out  of  the  'upper  end  of  his  body  & 
it  is  small  at  the  top  which  he  uses  to  swallow  with,  &  it  grows  long 
&  slim  to  make  things  taste  good  all  the  way  down,  which  is  different 
from  snakes,  for  snakes  have  necks  all  the  way  to  the  ends  of  their 
tails  and  are   smaller  at  the  bot-bottom  &    can  swallow  toads  &  I 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  109 

lings  without  chew-chew-chewing  of  them  ;  but  it  takes  a  good 
mile  to  do  it. 

Roosters  &  ministers  &  lions  have  to  have  necks  to  crow  with  and 
Dar  with,  only  roosters  don't  have  to  have  white  neckties  to  crow  in- 
l,  they  can  crow  good  enough  without-without  them,  &  have  to 
et  up  too  early  in  the  morning  to  fix  them  on,  cause,  too,  they 
i.on't  have  lookin'  glasses  in  the  barnyards  to  see  how  they  look 
rithout  them. 

Lions  never  sees  neckties,  for  they  roar  in  forests,  except  when 
hey  live  in  cages. 

Hens  have  necks,  too,  but  they  don't  crow  cause  they  are  fe- 
smales  &  females  only  cack-cackle. 

There  is  an  animal  called  a  crow  which  have  necks  to  eat  corn 
yith,  but  they  never  use  them  like  roosters. 

I  like  roosters  and  lions  better  than  I  like  toads  or  snakes  or 
;iraffes  or  ministers,  or  a  bull-frog  or  a  hen  or  crows. 

A  great  many  more  things  have  necks,  but  I  can't  think  of  them 

LOW. 


FRITZ. 


Anna  Randali.-Diehl. 


(Written  for  the  Grandmother's  Department  of  the  "Christian  at  Work.") 


[SHALL  tell  you  of  two  little  fellows  who  bore  that  name.  One 
of  them  lived  in  a  grand  and  beautiful  house  on  Fifth  avenue. 
He  had  the  most  tender  care  you  could  imagine,  and  never  waited 
i>n  himself  for  anything  on  earth  he  wanted.  He  had  the  most 
lelicate  food,  was  clad  in  the  warmest  clothing  in  winter,  and  the 
:oolest  possible  in  sumnw.  On  sunny  days  in  winter,  wrapped  up 
o  his  ears  in  a  coat  well  stuffed  with  eider  down,  he  looked  from 
he  closed  windows  of  a  carriage  as  it  rolled  through  Central  Park, 
tnd  in  summer  he  took  his  daily  rides  in  a  beautiful  landau  with  the 
op  thrown  back  so  that  he  could  enjoy  the  air  and  see  the  lovely 


no  EL OCUTIONAR  Y  STUDIES. 

country  through  which  he  passed.     Do  you  envy  the  one  on  whom 
all  this  luxury  was  expended  ? 

The  other  Fritz  lived,  I  ought  to  say  existed,  away  down  in  an 
alley  near  the  East  River.  He  never  had  a  warm  suit  of  clothing 
from  head  to  foot  in  his  life.  If  he  got  up  early  in  the  morning  to 
be  ahead  of  the  Italians  and  raked  out  a  comfortable  pair  of  shoes 
from  an  ash-barrel,  he  was  sure  at  that  time  to  have  a  coat  that  gave 
his  poor  little  shivering  body  perfect  ventilation.  If  by  chance,  as 
it  happened  once  or  twice,  somebody  gave  him  a  coat  and  a  decent 
pair  of  breeches,  his  shoes  were  like  sieves  and  his  hat  ditto.  But 
he  went  barefooted  a  good  portion  of  the  year.  You  would 
scarcely  have  noticed  that  he  did  not  wear  shoes  if  it  had  not  been 
for  his  ten  toes ;  for  his  feet,  which  had  never  had  an  application  of 
soap  and  water,  were  so  black  that  they  almost  looked  as  if  they  had 
a  covering.  This  little  Fritz  did  not  have  a  bowl  of  rich  cream  and 
a  smoking  chop  for  his  breakfast.  He  was  glad  to  get  anything  that 
would  fill  up  that  awful  big  place  in  his  stomach  which  was  always 
crying  for  "  more,"  and  somehow  never  got  satisfied.  A  bit  of  cold 
steak,  handed  out  by  some  warm-hearted  Irish  girl  through  the  grate 
of  the  basement  door,  was  a  god-send  and  fairly  set  him  up  for  a 
week.  This  little  fellow  was  not  idle.  Enough  money  came  into 
his  hands  to  make  him  comfortable  if  he  had  been  permitted  to  use 
even  a  little  of  it  for  himself.  He  sold  papers  night  and  morning. 
Once  in  a  great  while  somebody  gave  him  a  nickel  for  a  penny 
paper  and  did  not  wait  for  the  change,  or  generously  told  him  to 
keep  the  pennies.  With  four  cents  of  his  own,  which  you  may  be 
sure  he  lost  little  time  in  spending,  he  ran  the  risk  of  not  having 
substantial  food,  and  indulged  in  pop  corn,  candy  or  peanuts.  This 
little  chap  had  a  drunken  father ;  he  wasn't  much  like  a  father,  and 
Fritz  sometimes  doubted  very  much  if  that  relationship  existed. 
How  could  it  ?  for  the  man  cared  nothing  for  the  little  one's  com- 
fort and  beat  him  most  cruelly  if  the  whole  value  of  the  papers  sold 
daily  were  not  given  into  his  hand  every  night.  There  was  always 
money  kept  to  buy  the  papers  next  day  or  the  business  would  have 
been  at  an  end,  but  the  profits  all  ran  down  the  throat  of  the  man  in 
the  shape  of  whiskey. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  in 

One  day  the  Fifth  avenue  Fritz  died.  It  was  a  clear  case  of  an 
overdose  of  luxury.  He  was  placed  in  a  handsome  coffin  lined  with 
pale  blue  satin,  and  laid  away  in  a  choice  little  nook  on  the  grounds 
.of  the  country-seat  where  he  had  breathed  his  last. 

It  was  a  long,  cold  winter,  and  the  other  Fritz  had  been  out  in  all 
sorts  of.  weather  with  never  a  fire  to  dry  his  rain-soaked  rags  at 
?night,  or  a  cup  of  hot  coffee  to  warm  his  stomach  in  the  morning. 
J  Is  it  strange  that  he  began  to  cough  and  that  ere  long  his  great 
! black  eyes  gleamed  out  like  stars  set  in  his  pale,  hunger-pinched' 
jface  ? 

I     God  is  good,  and  one  night  there  was  one  little  voice  less  to  cry 
nat  the  Brooklyn  Bridge,  "  Daily  Noo-ez — one  cent." 

Fritz  had  gone  to  that  country  where  they  need  not  the  light  of 
jthe  sun  by  day,  nor  the  moon  by  night,  and  the  inhabitants  neve 
[say,  "  I  am  sick." 

]     His  poor  little  body  found  rest  in  an  unpainted  coffin  and  was 
flaid  away  in  the  Potter's  Field. 

i     The   Fifth  avenue  Fritz  was  a  dog,  a  silver  Skye,  the  other  a 
<child.     God  pity  such  ! 
f     Ah  me '. 


A    CHRISTMAS    GIFT. 


David   L.    Proudfit. 


Mr.  Proudfit  was  first  known  in  literature  under  the  name  of  "  Peleg  Ark- 
iwright."  Many  of  his  earlier  poems  were  in  dialect  form.  They  were  full  of  the 
igamin  sentiment,  the  tenderness,  the  pathos  of  the  poor  and  uneducated.  His 
later  poems  are  pitched  upon  a  higher  key,  but  they  are  no  less  true  to  nature. 
Among  those  most  popular  as  recitations  are  "  Poor  Little  Joe,"  "  Drowned," 
"Love  on  the  Half-Shell,"  "Warden,  Keep  a  Place  for  Me,"  "Love  in  a 
Kitchen,"  "A  Catastrophe,"  "The  Last  Ride,"  and  "The  Palmer." 


HE  was  feeble  and  old  and  his  figure  was  drooping, 
As  he  sat  there  watching  the  boy  in  his  sleep, 
Ana  tremulous  shadows  were  waving  about  him, 
As  the  fire  burned  fitful  with  flicker  and  leap. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

Burning  with  fever' the  boy  lay  moaning, 
His  sunken  eyes  were  aglow  with  red, 

And  his  little  hands  with  their  restless  fingers 
Wandered  uneasily  over  the  bed. 

The  aged  watcher,  with  pleading  anguish, 
Pours  his  heart  in  an  earnest  prayer — 

A  prayer  of  importunate,  tender  yearning 

For  the  sweet  young  life  that  is  fading  there— 

The  one  dear  life  that  is  left  to  care  for. 

O,  blessed  Christ  !   on  thy  natal  day, 
Out  of  Thine  infinite  love  and  pity, 

The  hand  of  the  dread  destroyer  stay ! 

The  boy  sleeps  on,  and  the  snow  is  falling 
Out  in  the  silent  and  sorrowful  night, 

And  the  shadows  mock  at  the  old  man's  figure, 
Sitting  there  in  the  flickering  light. 

It  is  Christmas  eve,  and  the  thought  came  quickly 

Bringing  a  tear  to  his  faded  eye — 
"  The  light  of  the  Christmas  sun  will  show  me 

If  the  little  one  is  to  live  or  die." 

Sudden  he  stoops,  with  an  anxious  gesture  — 
The  little  sleeper  has  made  a  moan — 

His  lips  are  moving,  the  words  come  trembling ; 
The  old  man  listens  and  stifles  a  groan. 

"  Is  it  Christmas  yet  ?     It  is  long  in  coming 
Why  is  it  hot  ?     I  am  burning  here  ! 

Christmas  comes  in  the  winter  weather  — 
It  can't  be  Christmas  yet,  grandpa,  dear — 

"  Christmas  comes  in  the  winter  weather 
When  the  air  is  frosty  and  cold,  I  know; 

You  said  I  would  hear  the  sleigh-bells  jingle, 
And  bundle  up  and  go  out  in  the  snow. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  113 

"And  you  said  in  the  beautiful  Christmas  morning  — 
But  it  can't  be  morning,  the  room  is  so  dark  — 

If  I  was  good,  so  that  He  could  love  me, 

The  Christ-child  might  bring  me  a  Noah's  ark. 

"  My  throat  is  so  sore  !    will  it  ever  be  morning  ? 

Grandpa,  dear,  I  should  like  to  pray 
That  the  Christ-child  would  come  and  make  me  better 

And  take  this  pain  in  my  head  away." 

The  blue  eyes  close,  but  the  lips  are  still  moving, 
And  the  little  fingers  are  folded  in  prayer — 

Till  again  he  drops  into  the  restless  slumber, 
And  again  the  old  man  is  watching  him  there ; 

Till  he  rises  to  place  in  a  little  stocking 

A  few  loving  gifts  for  the  Christmas  morn ; 

But,  as  he  thinks,  "will  the  little  one  need  them  ?" 
The  hot  tears  roll  from  his  eyes  forlorn. 

And  the  hours  go  by,  and  out  in  the  darkness 

The  chill  white  snow  drops  out  of  the  sky, 
Shrouding  the  world  in  a  ghostly  garment  — 

The  dead,  cold  world — as  the  hours  go  by. 

While  up  through  the  night  to  the  throne  of  Heaven— 

Up  to  the  pitying  Christ  on  high  — 
The  angels  have  carried  the  old  man's  prayer 

And  the  broken  words  of  the  child's  weak  cry. 

The  night  is  past  and  the  clouds  have  vanished  I 

Cold  and  clear  is  the  morning's  light ; 
But  still  the  aged  eyes  are  watching, 

Dim  with  the  shadows  that  haunt  the  night. 

But  the  face  of  the  sleeping  boy  is  placid  ; 

The  fever  is  gone.     Will  he  waken  to  die  ? 
The  sweet  eyes  open  in  tranquil  beauty  — 

Their  blue  is  as  clear  as  the  morning  sky. 


1 14  ELOCUTIONAR Y  STUDIES. 

And  "  Grandpa,  dear,"  said  his  thin,  weak  treble, 
"  I  thought  my  mamma  was  standing  there; 

Her  face  was  white,  but  her  eyes  were  loving, 
And  I'm  sure  't  was  her  hand  touched  my  hair. 

"And  the  pain  went  out  of  my  head  that  minute 
And  a  pleasant  feeling  upon  me  fell ; 

Grandpa,  dear,  did  the  Christ-child  send  her 
Out  of  Heaven  to  make  me  well  ? 

"And  now  it  is  Christmas  morning,  isn't  it  ? 

Is  that  the  jingle  of  sleigh-bells  ?     Hark  ! 
And  there's  my  stocking  ! — Oh,  see  there,  grandpa  ! 

The  Christ-child  remembered  my  Noah's  ark." 

They  are  tears  of  joy  the  old  man  is  shedding, 
As  his  poor  eyes  blink  in  the  rising  sun, 

For  the  blessed  gift  of  that  Christmas  morning  — 
The  precious  life  of  the  little  one. 


THE   GYPSY   FLOWER  GIRL. 


Ed.   L.   McDowell. 


This  poem  was  written  for  "  The  Voice  "  and  published  April,  1887.  While 
all  rights  are  reserved,  it  has  been  kindly  given  to  these  pages.  It  affords  one 
of  the  best  elocutionary  studies  possible,  and  is  eminently  adapted  for  public 
recitation. 

rr*HE  narration  would  interest  you  were  it  repeated  in  the  most 
1  simple  manner,  but  the  gypsy  girl  tells  her  thrilling  story  so 
dramatically,  that  you  are  carried  away  to  the  Mediterranean's  very 
shores.  You  climb  with  her  to  the  eagle's  nest  far  up  the  Sierra's 
slope  ;  you  sympathize  with  her  in  infatuation  for  Don  Jose  and  her 
hatred  of  her  rival  ;  you  see  her  in  her  strange  encounter  with  the 
Atric  lion,  and  almost  hold  your  breath  until  all  is  over  and  she  is 
safe.  You  know  that,  now,  as  she  tells  her  story  her  heart  is  broken 
and  her  mind  distraught,  and  are  moved  to  keenest  pity  as  she  cries 
her  roses  and  sings  her  little  song. 

The  recitation  becomes  more  effective  if  given  in  costume,  with 
a  pretty  tambourine  and  a  basket  of  roses.  The  dress  is  as  follow?  : 


ELOCUTIONAL  Y  STUDIES.  1 1 5 

ikirt,  gathered  very  full,  reaching  half  way  below  the  knee,  of  dark 
>lue  material  with  border  at  the  bottom,  six  inches  deep,  of  pale 
euion  color ;  blouse  of  white  linen  gathered  full  at  front  and  back, 
leeves  starched  very  stiff,  full  at  shoulder  and  wrist.  Over  the 
)louse  is  worn  a  pointed  "  peasant "  waist  of  red  velvet  laced  front 
md  back  with  gold  cord  finished  with  tassels  at  the  ends.  The 
lockings  are  white,  and  when  worn  are  wound  about  with  dark  blue 
ibbons,  crossing  front  and  back  ;  black  morocco  slippers  with  low 
ueels ;  a  turban,  entwined  of  gayly  colored  breadths  of  silk,  is  coiled 
ibout  the  head. 

Pronunciation. 

Zingarella  —  Zeen-gah-rail-yah. 

Don  Jose  —  Don  Oza. 

Egypta  —  A-jyp-tah. 

Sierra  Nevada's  —  Se-er-rah  Na-vah-dah« 

Morena  —  Mo-ra-nah. 

Malaga  —  Mahl-ah-gah. 

Zhock  —  Shock. 

Senorita  —  Sain-yore-e-tah. 

Senor  —  Sain-yore. 

Buy  my  roses  senorita,  you  sefior 
You,  fair  Inglees  maiden. 

Seem  to  interrupt  a  person  who  is  passing  at  the  right,  as  you 
peak  the  first  four  words,  giving  slight  emphasis  on  "  buy,"  "  roses," 
)ut  greater  on  "  senorita."  Address  the  gentleman  as  if  he  were  in 
he  company  of  the  lady,  emphasizing  "  you,"  and  pausing  before 
ittering  the  next  word,  "  senor."  which  is  also  emphatic. 

You  now  turn  to  the  left,  as  if  a  person  were  passing  upon  that 
■ide,  extending  left  hand  as  you  say  "  you  ;  "  pause  and  with  a  slight 
t>ow  and  smile  of  admiration  at  the  winsome  beauty  of  the  English 
jjirl,  and  say,  with  a  confident,  though  a  little  pleading  tone,  "fair 
nglees  maiden,"  pausing  slightly  after  "fair"  and  longer  after 
'  Inglees." 

Sing,  tambourine  accompaniment  playing  in  a  listless  way,  as  if 
rou  did  not  think  of  the  instrument. 

Not  like  the  mountain  rose  wrth  perfume  laden, 
Only  tame  roses  with  the  morning  blush  gone, 
Like  wild  Zingarella  whose  lover  has  flown. 


116  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

The  face  assumes  a  serious  tone  and  grows  sadder  as  the  little 
song  goes  on.  When  the  last  line  is  ended,  you  seem  utterly  lost  in 
revery,  and  the  expression  is  most  pathetic.  Some  by-stander  asks 
your  name  and  this  calls  back  your  thoughts. 

What  is  my  name  ? 

Wild  Zingarella. 

Daughter  of  the  Nevadas  am  I  called. 

Where  was  I  born  ? 

Aloft  and  beyond  the  eagle's  nest, 

Far  up  in  yon  Sierra  Nevadas. 

"  What  is  my  name  ?  "  Emphasize  "  what,"  pause  a  moment  after; 
emphasize  "Wild  Zingarella,"  and  draw  yourself  up  with  pride. 
"Daughter  of  the  Nevadas,"  spoken  as  if  tin's  were  a  great  honor;  em- 
phasize "  daughter,"  "  Nevadas."  Some  one  asks,  '■  Where  were  you 
born  ?  "  And  you  repeat  the  question,  "  Where  was  1  born  ?"  empha- 
sizing "  where,"  pausing  after  "  where,"  and  emphasizing  "born." 
In  giving  the  answer,  "Aloft  and  beyond  the  eagle's  nest,"  upon  the 
first  word  direct  the  eye  to  right  oblique,  far  up  an  imaginary  cliff, 
pointing  with  right  hand  as  you  say,  "  and  beyond  the  eagle's  nest;" 
pause  after  "  beyond,"  pronounce  "  eagle's  nest  "  very  distinctly„(not 
"eagle  snest").  Dwell  on  the  words  "  Far  up;"  pause,  speak  "yon 
Sierra  Nevada's "  as  if  you  actually  see  the  mountains,  and  use 
gesture  as  if  outlining  them. 

My  childhood  was  a  wild-cat  life. 

From  early  morn  until  the  stars 

Shone  o'er  the  Mediterranean, 

I  nothing  did  but  laugh,  and  sing,  and  dance  with 

My  wild  gypsy  bell'd  tambourine,  and  fling 

Defiance  in  the  face  of  death,  and  swing 

Far  out  from  cliffs  and  mountain  peaks 

Where  sea  gulls  build  and  wild-cats  shriek, — 

Shrieks  that  my  wild  heart  lov'd  to  hear, 

Nor  dreamed  of  such  a  thing  as  fear. 

Take  a  conversational  tone  ;  emphasize  "  childhood,  wild-cat,  life, 
early,  morn,  stars,  shone,  o'er,  Mediterranean,  "  pausing  after 
"  childhood,  wild-cat,  morn,  o'er." 

|W^ 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  117 

The  tone  should  now  grow  more  sprightly.  Give  explosive  em- 
phasis indicating  exultant  joy  in  the  remembrance  on  "  laugh,  sing, 
dance,  wild,  gypsy,  bell'd,  tambourine."  "  Defiance  "  is  given  with 
final  stress  and  is  very  explosive ;  "  swing  "  slightly  emphatic ;  "  far 
out"  with  swelling  voice;  staccato  emphasis  on  "  cliff,  mountain 
peaks."  Pause  after  "where,"  emphasize  '■  sea  gulls,  build,  wild- 
cat, shrieks."  Be  careful  to  sound  the  //  in  "shrieks."  Give  second 
"  shrieks  "  louder  than  first  with  final  stress  and  downward  slide  as 
"  sh rieks  ;  "  the  remainder  of  the  line  is  read  in  an  exultant  tone. 

Emphasize  with  falling  slide  "  dreamed,"  "  fear ;  "  pause  after 
"  dreamed." 

Fear? 

Climbing  to  where  the  Sierras  lift 

Their  snow-draped  foreheads  against  the  skies, 

Then  swing  off  and  down  on  a  swift  snowdrift, 

To  where  the  summer  queen  reigns  and  the  ice  king  dies. 

"  Fear  ?  "  compound  stress.  Run  up  an  octave  of  surprise  on 
the  question.  "  Climbing  "  emphatic,  (hold  on  to  Jig),  strong  em- 
phasis on  "  Sierra's  "  and  less  on  "  where,  lift,  snow-draped,  fore- 
heads against  skies."  Gesture  is  given  with  full  sweep  of  arm,  hand 
pointing  out  or  defining  ;  eye  corresponding.  Pause  after  "then;" 
"swing  off  and  down  "  with  a  free  movement  of  voice;  quicken 
time  on  "  swift  snowdrift." 

Pause  after  "where,  queen,  king."  Emphasize  "where,  summer, 
queen,  reigns,  ice  king,  dies." 

Fear  ? 

Hunting  the  leopard  in  dark  sunless  glades, 
Whipping  the  tiger  with  my  wild -cat  braids,  ^ 
'Midst  the  innermost  dangers  that  beset  gypsy  tribes, 
Whose  life  is  but  strife  and  whose  law  is  the  knife,— 
There  was  I  born  ; 

"  Fear  ?  "  as  before,  though  stronger,  if  possible.  "  Hunting," 
emphasize  and  hold  on  to  ng  a  moment;  "leopard"  with  em- 
phasis, after  which  pause  ;  lower  pitch  on  prepositional  phrase  "  dark, 
sunless  glades,"  with  emphasis  upon  each  word.  "  Whipping," 
hold  on  to  ng ;  "  tiger"  strong  downward  slide  ;  emphasize  "wild- 
cat, braids,  dangers,  beset,  gypsy,  tribes,  life,  strife,  law,  knife." 
"  There  "  and  "  born  "  must  be  emphatic,  followed  by  pause. 


n8  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

There  lived  I  ; 

There  was  I  named  Zingarella. 

Then  Don  Jose  came  :  he  of  the  Sierra  Morena  tribe, 

And  camped  near  the  grape  hills  of  old  Malaga. 

Yes,  Don  Jose  came  ;  and  I,  I,  Zinga, 

Wild  Zingarella  fawned  even  at  his  feet. 

Pause  after  "  there  "  in  first  and  second  line  ;  emphasize  "  lived 
I,  named  Zingarella;"  pause  after  "named."  "Don  Jose"  is 
spoken  with  pride;  "He  of  the  Sierra  Morena  tribe,"  explanatory 
and  given  lower.  Cumulative  emphasis  on  "  I,  I,  Zinga,  wild  Zin- 
garella ;"  drop  voice  and  emphasize  with  falling  inflection  "  fawned, 
even,  feet." 

But  O  when  love  is  not  returned, 
Meeting  with  looks  but  sternly  kind, 
It  turns  the  heart  to  fire — then  ashes — 
And  makes  a  ghost-walk  of  the  mind. 

"  But  O  "  with  great  pathos  ;  "  when  love  is  not  returned,"  great 
falling  slide  on  "  returned."  Clasp  hands  as  if  in  despair.  Empha- 
size "  Meeting,  looks,  sternly,  kind,"  with  very  sad  tone,  fiercely 
gasping  the  words  "turns,  heart,  fire,"  strong  emphasis  on  last  word. 
Fall  in  pitch  and  pronounce  "  then  ashes,"  "  ghost-walk,"  slight 
aspirate;  end  the  line  weeping,  long  pause  filled  wi.th  weeping, 
recover  yourself  impulsively  and  seem  to  throw  off  the  present  feel- 
ing as  you  go  back  in  memory  to  the  old  infatuation  for  Don  Jose. 

In  the  kingly  majesty  of  Don  Jose's  presence 
I  stood  as  one  entranced,  bewildered,  yet 
Joyously  amazed  at  my  too-fond  heart's  deep 
Bewilderment;  aye,  as  a  broken-winged  bird 
I  fluttered  at  his  feet. 

Let  kingly  majesty  be  shown  in  your  very  attitude  as  in  pride  and 
love  you  pronounce  the  first  line.  "I  stood "  slightly  emphatic; 
pronounce  "  entranced  "  as  if  lost  in  adoring  admiration  ;  "  bewil- 
dered "  in  a  dazed  and  puzzled  way;  "Joyously  amazed,"  great 
swell  of  voice  with  victorious  utterance,  while  indescribable  feeling 
in  tone  and  force  is  given  on  "too-fond,  heart's;"  on  "deep 
bewilderment  '  you  seem  slightly  confused.     "  Aye,"  distinct  fall- 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  119 

ing  emphasis  ;  "  as  a  broken-winged  bird,"  pathetically  ;  it  is  tender 
and  low  in  pitch ;  "  fluttered  at  his  feet  "  spoken  very  gently,  but  as 
if  it  were  a  joy  and  honor  to  occupy  that  lowly  position. 

Then  Egypta  came — she  of  the  proud  Cordova  tribe, 
And  camped  on  the  slopes  above  the  roar  of  the  sea. 
Egypta  came  and  dared  to  come  between  my  love  and  inc. 
She  stood  before  my  king,  my  idol,  my  adored,  with 
Imperious  brow  and  mocking  airs ;  she  dared  to  stand 
Before  him  with  her  enchanting,  snaky  eyes  aglow. 
Unabashed,  defiant  and  unawed  she  stood, 
And  —  and  —  and  Don  Jose's  heart  and  head — 
O  I  cannot,  cannot  tell  the  rest. 
There  at  the  foot  of  yon  mountain-pass, 
Don  Jose  met  Egypta. 

The  whole  attitude  now  changes.  With  erect  form,  flashing  eye 
and  distinct  voice,  slightly  tinged  with  the  hatred  she  feels,  she  says, 
"Then  [pause]  Egypta  [pause]  came."  "She"  is  fairly  hissed,  and 
the  pause  which  follows  is  filled  with  the  expression  of  concentrated 
though  suppressed  hate  ;  it  is  shown  by  deep  and  rapid  breathing, 
flashing  eyes  under  lowered  lid,  head  slightly  moving  from  side  to 
side,  teeth  set.  "  Proud  Cordova  tribe  "  in  strong,  full  tone,  with  a 
curl  of  scorn  upon  the  lips. 

"  Camped  upon  the  slopes  above  the  roar  of  the  sea,"  is  simply 
descriptive  with  gesture  of  the  eye  and  hand.  "  Egypta  came,"  first 
very  emphatic,  explosive  force,  downward  slide,  pause  after  each 
word.  The  name  is  pronounced  as  if  you  would  like  to  tear  your 
rival  limb  from  limb.  A  long  pause  follows,  "  and  dared  "  is  spoken 
widi  menacing  look,  "to  come  between  my  love  and  me."  Upon 
the  last  the  voice  sinks  and  is  tenderly  sad;  you  rouse  yourself; 
your  scorn  returns  as  you  say,  "  She  stood  before,"  then  the  voice 
falls  to  a  low,  worshipful  tone  upon  "  my  idol,"  swelling  out  on  "my 
adored;"  then  gathering  up  your  hate,  you  say  "  with  imperious  brow 
and  mocking  airs,"  giving  supreme  scorn  on  "mocking,"  "she 
dared  [explosively  spoken]  to  stand  before  him."  "  Enchanting, 
snaky  eyes"  is  hissed  through  set  teeth,  while  "unabashed,  defiant, 
unawed"  is  given  with  proud  hate.  "And — and"  is  given  as  if 
with  (lie  Avail  of  a  broken  heart,  with  fast-filling  tears  and  choking 
voice,  "  Oh  1  cannot,  cannot  tell  the  rest,"  you  pause,  overcome 
by  nnotion,  then  summing  up  your  strength  you  rally,  and  go  on 


1 20  ELOCUTIONAR  Y  STUDIES. 

with  the  description,  pointing  in  the  direction  indicated,  you  say 
"  There  [pause]  at  the  foot  [pause]  of  yon  mountain-pass ;"  "  met 
Egypta,"  last  two  words  are  given  slowly  but  distinctly. 

There  she  stole  my  lover  frojrrl  me , 
There  she  palmed  her  faith  into  his  soul ; 
She  practiced  on  Don  Jose's  palms  and  read 
His  fate  as  foreordained  with  hers. 
She  forged  him  tales  of  their  twin  destinies, 
Till  Jose's  soui  was  at  her  feet, 
His  every  thought  her  slave. 
Thus  wooed  they. 

The  first  line  is  spoken  while  burning  tears  are  falling,  but  all  the 
jealous  hate  returns  as  she  goes  on.  "  She  practiced  on  Don  Jose's 
palms,"  there  should  be  a  pause  filled  up  with  scorn  after  "she." 

"  She  forged  him  tales  "  is  hissed  from  shut  teeth,  but  the  tone 
falls,  as  if  in  very  pity  for  the  captive,  as  the  words  are  spoken  "  till 
Jose's  soul  was  at  her  feet,  his  every  thought  her  slave."  "  Thus 
wooed  they  "  is  simply  discriptive. 

One  dark  and  starless  storm-portending  night 

I,  with  my  faithful  Afric  lion, 

Sought  forgetfulness  in  the  mountains  ; 

Sought  in  vain  io  cool  my  feverish,  burning  blood. 

A  sudden  flame  of  lightning  startled  me,  frightened 

My  soul  with  a  sense  that  I  had  wandered  too  near 

The  purple  cliffs  of  Malaga,  too  near  the  spot  1  hated  most 

And  prayed  to  keep  most  distant  from. 

Change  to  heavier  force  and  emphasize  "  dark,  starless,  storm-por- 
tending, night,  I,  faithful.  Afric  lion  ;  "  lower  the  voice  on  "  sought, 
forgetfulness,  mountains  ;"  "  sought  "  and  "  vain  "  are  o;iven  with  fall- 
ing slide;  "cool"  with  a  swell  of  voice;  on  "feverish  "  dwell  on  first 
syllable ;  speak  "burning"  fiercely.  Quicken  time  on  "sudden 
flame  of  lightning."  "  Startled  "  should  be  spoken  tremulously  and 
slightly  aspirated  ;  "  frightened  "  with  stronger  tremor.  "  Soul, 
sense,  T,  had  wandered  too  near,  cliffs-,  Malaga,  too  near,  spot  hated 
[express  hate|,  prayed,  [plaintive  coloring  of  tone]  to,  keep,  most 
distant,  from,"  are  all  emphatic. 


ELOCUTIONAR Y  STUDIES.  1 2 1 

My  Zhock,  my  faithful  Afric  lion,  my  childhood's 

Faithful  lover  and  trusty,  true  and  only  friend ; 

My  faithful  Zhock  — 

Whose  native  fierce  and  fiery  nature  seemed 

Now  most  like  my  own  —  was  at  my  side. 

Thrice  as  we  moved  along  the  slope 

Had  Zhock  growled  hard,  and  snapped  his  glittering  teeth, 

And  crouched  as  t'were  to  spring  ; 

And  thrice  had  I  as  fiercely,  yet  more  silently, 

Warned  him  back  and  down. 

But  when  I  heard  Egypta's  cursed  kiss, 

And  saw  her  snaky-,  coiling  arms  around 

Don  Jose's  neck, 

And  heard  him  swear  by  Egypta's  gods 

That  he  was  hers  alone, — 

"  Sic,  sic  !  upon  them,  Zhock  !  "  I  cried, 

With  all  my  wild-cat  nature 

Boiling,  seething,  hissing  hot 

Through  all  my  veins, — 

Hissing  through  my  lips  and  brain. 

"  Sic,  sic  !  upon  them  Zhock  l  "  I  cried  ; 

And  urged  my  Afric  lion  on. 

"  My  Zhock,  my  faithful  Afric  lion,  childhood's  faithful  lover, 
trusty,  true,  only  friend,"  all  given  as  if  loving  to  dwell  upon  the 
words  descriptive  of  "  My  faithful  Zhock."  As  his  ^native,  fierce, 
fiery  nature,  most  like  my  own  "  is  described,  the  voice  gains  strength 
and  the  attitude  becomes  commanding.  With  "  as  we  moved  along 
the  slope,"  glide  a  little  to  one  side,  as  if  stepping  cautiously,  or 
make  the  descriptive  movement  with  the  hand.  "  Growled  hard  "  is 
spoken  with  a  distinct  guttural  voice;  "snapped"  is  spoken  quickly, 
indicative  of  the  word;  at  "crouched"  cower  slightly.  "As  t'were 
to  spring,"  is  spoken  rapidly;  "Thrice  had  I  warned  him  back  and 
down"  is  spoken  low,  but  with  much  force.  "But  when  I  heard 
Egypta's  cursed  kiss,  and  saw  her  snaky,  coiling  arms  around  Don 
Jose's  neck,"  is  spoken  with  the  utmost  extreme  of  murderous  hate. 
Until  now  the  gypsy  girl  has  not  ceased  to  love  and  pity  Don  Jose, 
believing  him  to  be  the  dupe  of  her  rival's  wiles  ;  but  as  she  hears 
him,  "swear  by  Egypta's  gods    that  he  was  hers  alone, — "  like  a 


122  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

mighty  avalanche  her  hate  burst  forth.  With  glaring  eyes  she  leans 
far  over  the  cliff,  and  pointing  downward  gives  her  word  of  command 
to  the  fierce  beast  who  has  been  trained  to  obey  her  every  word  and 

look.     "  S ic  !  s ic  !  "     Clap  hands  strongly  upon  these 

exclamations ;  point  with  a  vigorous  movement  toward  the  lovers', 
"upon  them  Zhock."  The  lion  obeys;  he  scarcely  needs  the 
second'  command. 

The  thund'rous  heavens  now  stormed 

And  lightnings  flashed  ; 

But  storm  nor  thunder  peals  were  aught 

To  the  roar  of  my  kingly  lion, 

Or  the  flashing,  blazing  eyes  of  that  defiant,  god-like  man. 

With  full  gesture  and  stirring  voice  the  storm  is  described,  and  the 
words  are  most  exultingly  spoken,  ".But  storm  nor  thunder  peals 
were  aught  to  the  roar  of  my  kingly  lion."  In  the  words  "  Or 
the  flashing,  blazing  eyes  of  that  defiant,  god-like  man,"  it  must  be 
shown  that  her  admiration  has  returned. 

Don  Jose's  long  stiletto  flashed  athwart 

The  lightning's  lurid  gleams. 

Thus  armed,  he  stood  covering  Egypta  with  his  left, 

His  right  well-sinewed  arm  upheld  and  daggered. 

Thus  armed,  he  stood  sternly  waiting  the  attack. 

Zhock  sprang  and  bore  Don  Jose  to  the  ground. 

The  stiletto  is  in  Don  Jose's  strong,  right  hand,  while  with  his  left 
he  guards  Egypta  from  the  attack,  a  moment  more  and  the  lion. has 
borne  him  to  the  ground. 

"  Back  Zhock  !  back  Zhock  !   back  to  thy  mistress,  back  !  " 

In  vain  I  cried,  I  cried  in  vain. 

Through  the  glare  of  the  storm  — 

Lo  !   Egypta  has  seized  Don  Jose's  dirk  ; 

Quickly  it  falls  across  my  Afric  lion's  eyes. 

Zhock  reluctantly  relaxes  his  weakened  hold 

And  sneaks  away  with  hurt,  blood-blinded  eyes. 

Now  Don  Jose  and  Egypta  fly  toward  the  sea. 

Thank  heaven  they  reach  the  cliffs  —  now  disappear. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  123 

Then  show  that  all  her  love  has  returned,  and  vengeance  on  her 
rival  is  forgotten  as  she  sees  Don  Jose's  peril.  With  all  her  voice 
she  madly  cries  :  "  Back  Zhock  !  back  Zhock !  back  to  thy  mis- 
tress, back  !  "  The  command  is  given  in  loud,  explosive  tones.  "  In 
vain,  I  cried,  I  cried  in  vain  "  is  given  pathetically  with  distinct  fall- 
ing on  "  vain  "  in  both  instances.  She  is  even  glad  when  she  sees 
that  Egypta  has  seized  the  dirk  and  has  struck  the  lion  between  the 
eyes,  for  now  the  beast  gives  up  the  fight,  and  Don  Jose  and  Egypta 
climb  the  cliff  and  disappear. 

The  hands  should  be  clasped  as  she  sees  the  flying  pair  go  up 
the  cliff — and  a  frenzy  of  joy  seems  to  be  reached  when  they  are 
safe. 

"  Help !  why  Zhock,  how  you  startled  me  ; 

Why  Zhock,  how  you  glare,  how  you  stare  ! 

Down  !  shame,  shame," —  Ha  !   I  know  now,  Zhock  is  mad  ! 

Help  !   God  of  the  Christians  ! 

Hungry  with  the  taste  of  Don  Jose's  blood 

My  Afric  lion  now  returns  eager  for  mine  own. 

Where  shall  I  flee  ? 

You  will  find  a  difficult  study  in  what  follows.  The  bleeding  lion 
returns  to  his  mistress,  but  not  now  her  playful  fellow,  her  faithful 
servant.  "  Help  !  "  she  cries  wildly,  "  Zhock,  how  you  startled  me  " 
in  a  reassuring  tone ;  "  Zhock,  how  you  glare,  how  you  stare  !  " 
here  fear  has  reached  the  wildest  state,  but  by  a  mighty  force  of  will 
she  conceals  her  terror,  and  drawing  herself  to  most  commanding 
figure  she  cries,  "  Down  !  shame  !  shame  !  "  (Imagine  the  attitude 
and  assume  it.)  She  looks  the  lion  in  the  eye,  but  he  does  not 
quail,  and  then  she  knows  that  he  is  mad.  "  Help,  God  of  the 
Christians,"  she  cries  loudly. 

"  Hungry  with  the  taste  of  Don  Jose's  blood  my  Afric  lion  now 
returns  eager  for  mine  own  "  is  spoken  rapidly,  with  husky,  choking 
voice. 

"  Back,  down  !  sic!  upon  them  Zhock — - 

Yonder  Zhock,  down  by  the  sea. 

Zhock,  how  dare  you  !   peace,  Zhock. 

I  am  wild  Zingarella,  thy  mistress,  fair  boy, 

Down,  back,  away  !    down  !   down  !  " 

Life  is  dear  to  her  and  she  endeavors  to  call  off  the  hungry  beast 
and  send  him  after  his  escaping  victims.     "  Back  !  down  !    upon 


in  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

them  Zhock  !  Yonder  Zhock,  down  by  die  sea."     In  vain  her  com- 
mand ;  then  she  pleads,  "  I  am  wild  Zingarella,  thy  mistress." 

I  feel  his  thorny  claws  around  my  neck, 

His  hot  breath  on  my  throat. 

Thrice  with  my  stiletto  do  I  cut  the  monster  down. 

Backward  toward  the  cliffs  of  Malaga 

I  fight  my  horrible  way. 

I  near  the  cliffs,  keeping  the  frenzied  beast  at  bay, 

Backwardly  fighting,  parrying,  evading, 

With  supernatural  strength  I  hold 

The  treacherous  wretch  at  bay. 

"  I  feel  his  thorny  claws  around  my  neck,"  gesture  is  given  with 
right  hand  on  the  throat,  as  if  to  clutch  it  —  in  a  terrible  whisper 
you  say  the  words  "  His  hot  breath  on  my  throat."  With  her  eye 
upon  his  f ye  beating  him  back  at  every  step,  "  parrying,  evading," 
she  makes  her  way  backward  toward  the  cliff.  Make  a  movement 
as  if  going  back,  and  seem  to  fight  your  way  ;  the  action  can 
scarcely  be  overdone. 

At  length  I  reach  the  cliffs. 

Twice,  thrice  my  good  steel  pierces 

The  raging,  foaming  lion's  side  ; 

Then  with  a  prayer  to  the  Christian's  God, 

I  plunge  far  down  in  the  roaring  tide. 

Zhock's  eyes  like  crackling  gypsy  camp-fires  shine; 

Or  as  twin  danger  signals,  out  on  the  sea. 

With  a  roar  of  rage  far  out  he  leaps. 

But  the  Christian's  God  was  kind  to  me, 

For  e'en  as  Zhock  sprang  some  hunter's  gun  spake 

And  Zhock  from  the  sea  will  never  awake. 

"At  length  [pause]  I  reach  the  cliffs,"  explosive  force  is  given  on 
"  twice,  thrice,  steel  pierces,  raging,  foaming  lion's  side." 

"  Then  with  a  prayer,"  modulated  voice,  clasped  hands  and  up- 
turned eyes;  "  I  plunge,"  falling  inflection  ;  "  with  a  roar  of  rage," 
increased  emphasis;  "  far  out,"  dwell  upon  the  words;  "he  leaps"  is 
spoken  quickly  with  a  short  pause  after  "  he  ;  "  "  but  the  Christian's 
God  was  kind  to  me  "  is  spoken  with  gentle  voice  and  a  3ad  smile. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  125 

That  was  the  day  my  wild  spirit  fled. 

See,  these  roses  bear  the  stains 

Of  the  deep  wounds  which  bled. 

Oft  my  brain  grows  wild  and  my  tame  body  shrinks 

'Neath  the  terrible  glare  of  Zhock's  eyes  —  there  ! 

Methinks  I  see  them  again — see  there,  see,  see,  how  he  blinks. 

Now  he  smacks  his  blood- dripping  hunger-set  jaws — 

Now  he  tenses  his  muscles  till  his  uncovered  claws 

Spread  out  and  scratch  fire  from  the  flint-surfaced  rocks. 

Now  he  springs — boom !  boom  !  goes  the  gun.     I  am  saved  ! 

I  am  free  ! 
And  Zingarella,  wild  Zinga  is  fished  out  of  the  sea. 

In  recounting  the  story,  Zingarella's  mind  wanders,  and  she  goes 
over  the  terrible  scene  again  in  memory.  The  last  line  is  given  very 
exultingly. 

Try  and  work  up  your  imagination  to  the  point  where  full  justice 
is  given  the  last  dozen  lines.     Cry  the  roses  as  at  the  beginning. 

So  now  buy  my  flowers,  tame  flowers,  sweet  maiden. 

Sing  very  plaintively  : 

Not  like  the  mountain  rose  with  perfume  laden, 
Only  tame  roses  with  the  morning  blush  gone, 
Like  wild  Zingarella  whose  lover  has  flown. 


This  grand  recitation  will  repay  your  trouble,  if  you  give  months 
to  the  study  of  it. 


FIVE    LITTLE   CHICKENS. 


(Recitation  for  a  child.) 

SAID  the  first  little  chicken 
With  a  queer  little  squirm, 
"  O,  I  wish  I  could  find 
A  fat  little  worm  !  " 


126  ELOCUUOXARY  STUDIES, 

Said  the  next  little  chicken 
With  an  odd  little  shrug, 

"  O,  I  wish  I  could  find 
A  fat  little  bug  !  " 

Said  the  third  little  chicken 
With  a  sharp  little  squeal, 

"  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  find 
Some  nice  yellow  meal ! 

Said  the  fourth  little  chicken 
With  a  small  sigh  of  grief, 

"  I  wish  I  could  find 
A  green  little  leaf  !  " 

Said  the  fifth  little  chicken 
With  a  faint  little  moan, 

"  O,  I  wish  I  could  find 
A  wee  gravel  stone." 

"  Now,  see  here,"  said  the  mother, 
From  the  green  garden  patch, 

"  If  you  want  any  breakfast, 
You  just  come  and  scratch  !  " 


HE   PAYS    LICENSE   ON   A   DOG. 

I  LIKE  to  ask  you  if  dere  vhas  some  license  to  keep  a  dog  ? " 
inquired  Mr.  Dunder  as  he  carefully  tip-toed   into    the  pres- 
ence of  Sergt.  Bendall  yesterday. 
"  Yes,  sir.  there  is." 
"  Who  gets  him  ?  " 

"  You  have  to  go  up  stairs  to  the  office  of  the  City  Clerk." 
"  Doan'  somepody  come  to  me  after  him  ?  " 
"  No,  sir." 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  127 

"Vhell,  dot  vhas  curious.  Last  week  Shake  goes  oudt  mit  Mt. 
Glemens  to  see  his  aunt,  und  he  prings  home  a  dog.  Me  keep  him 
tied  oop  mit  der  pack  yard,  und  he  vhas  home  only  one  day  when 
a  man  walks  into  my  blace  und  says  vhas  I  Carl  Dunder  ?  I  vhas. 
All  right.  He  like  to  got  that  license  money  on  Shake's  dog.  Uer 
regular  price  vhas  one  dollar,  but  he  make  it  seex  shillings  pecause 
it  vhas  hardt  times." 

"And  you  paid  ?  " 

"  Vhell,  I  doan'  like  to  haf  dot  dog  kildt,  you  see  ?  Eaferybody 
says  he  vhas  sooch  a  dog  ash  shmells  some  tiger  or  lion  two  miles 
avhay.  Next  day  a  stranger  comes  in  mit  a  shmall  pook  in  his  hand 
und  a  pencil  oafer  his  ear.  Vhas  I  Carl  Dunder  ?  I  vhas.  All 
right.  He  like  to  got  dot  license  on  Shake's  dog.  If  I  paid  him 
to  somepody  else  dot  vhas  nothings  mit  him.  He  vhas  a  frendt  to 
Shake,  howefer,  und  he  make  it  feefty  cents." 

"And  you  paid  that  ?  " 

"  Vhell,  Sergeant,  dot  vhas  a  good  dog.  If  some  burglars  vhas 
a  mile  avhay  he  howls  und  wakes  us  oop  und  saves  us  two  tousand 
dollar.  Dis  morning  a  stranger  comes  in.  He  haf  some  badge  on. 
Vhas  I  Carl  Dunder  ?  I  vhas.  All  right.  He  like  to  got  dot 
license  on  Shake's  dog.  If  I  pay  somepody  else  I  vhas  a  fool. 
Nopody  can  collect  dot  license  onless  he  haf  dot  badge  on.  Being 
ash  I  vhas  shwindled  he  make  it  twenty-five  cents." 

"And  you  were  fool  enough  to  pay  ?  " 

"  Vhell,  Sergeant,  I  pays  taxes  in  two  wards,  und  I  vhas  head- 
i  quarters  for  campaign  clubs.  Dot  dog  vhas  great  on  coons  und 
s  elephants.     Vhas  it  some  shwindle  on  me  ?  " 

"  Certainly  it  was  !      You  ought  to  be  sent  to  an  asylum  !  " 

"  Sergeant,  look  at  my  eye,  und  doan'  you  forget  him  !  I  vhas 
.going  home.  Somepody  vhill  come  in.  Vhas  I  Carl  Dunder?  I 
whas.  All  right.  Sergeant,  I  shall  shump  on  dot  person  like  a 
sparrow  on  an  elephant.  I  vhill  preak  him  in  two  und  drag  him 
aroundt  und  bang  his  headt  mit  dem  floor  until  der  Coroner  finds 
only  one  ear  und  a  shirt-button  to  hold  an  inquest  on  !  Good  pye  ! 
After  I  vhas  in  shail  come  und  see  me  sometimes,  for  I  vhas  an 
honest  man  who  haf  to  defend  my  family." 


EL  OCUTIONAR 1  *  S TUD1ES. 
GIVE   ME   BACK   MY   BOY. 


Jasper  Garnet. 


HE  was  handsome,  kind  and  gentle, 
And  his  eyes  were  dark  and  large, 
And  his  infant  years  were  lovely, 

When  God  gave  him  to  my  charge, 
And  in  his  riper  boyhood, 

He  spurned  the  mean  and  low  ; 
His  eyes  would  droop  in  sadness 

At  the  tale  of  other's  woe. 
To  me,  he  was  perfection, 

And  of  my  heart  the  joy  ! 
Oh,  Dean  of  Cards  and  Billiards, 

I  ask  you  for  my  boy  ! 

His  gentle  arm  would  clasp  me, 

When  a  sorrow  wrung  my  heart ; 
In  the  slightest  grief  of  Mother 

He  would  always  share  the  part. 
If  my  path  was  sad  and  lonely 

He  was  ever  by  my  side, — 
And  I  kneeling  dared  the  future, 

With  such  a  stay  and  guide. 
Of  early  youth  the  blossom, — 

Was  grace  without  alloy  ! 
Oh,  Haunt  of  Rum  and  Ruin, 

Give  back,  give  back,  my  boy ! 

The  witching  ways  of  Fashion 
Were  spread  before  his  view, 

And  bade  his  gentle  spirit 
Those  doubtful  ways  pursue. 

Oh,  wicked  world  that  tempted 
His  heart  from  mother's  love. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  J29 

Send  back,  send  back,  your  victim  ! 

Nor  dare  his  ruin  prove  ! 
I  can  mend  his  broken  spirit, 

Can  cleanse  his  dark  alloy  — 
I  better  know  his  merit  — 

God  —  give  me  back  my  boy ! 


PLIGHTED.    A.  D.  1887. 


Alice  Williams  Brother  ton. 


"Two  souls  with  but  a  single  thought. 
Two  hearts  that  beat  as  one." 
NELLIE    loquitur, 

BLESS  my  heart !  You're  come  at  last. 
Awful  glad  to  see  you,  clear ! 
Thought  you'd  died  or  something,  Belle — 

Such  an  age  since  you've  been  here  ! 
My  engagement  ?     Gracious  !     Yes. 

Rumor's  hit  the  mark  this  time. 
And  the  victim  ?     Charley  Gray, 

Know  him,  don't  you  ?     Well,  he's  prime. 
Such  mastachios  !      Splendid  style  ! 

Then  he's  not  so  hoirid  fast  — 
Waltzes  like  a  seraph,  too, 

Has  some  fortune  —  best  and  last. 
Love  him  ?     Nonsense.     Don't  be  "  soft." 

Pretty  much  as  love  now  goes ; 
He's  devoted,  and  in  time 

I'll  get  used  to  him,  I  s'pose. 
First  love  ?     Humbug.      Don't  talk  stuff. 

Bella  Brown,  don't  be  a  fool ! 
Next  you'll  rave  of  flames  and  darts 

Like  a  chit  at  boarding-school. 
Don't  be  "  miffed,"  I  talked  just  so 

Some  two  years  back.     Fact,  my  dear ! 


ISO  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

But  two  seasons  kill  romance, 

Leave  one's  views  of  life  quite  clear. 
Why,  if  Will  Latrobe  had  asked 

When  lie  left,  two  years  ago, 
I'd  have  thrown  up  all  and  gone 

Out  to  Kansas,  do  you  know  ? 
Fancy  me  a  settler's  wife  ! 

Blest  escape,  dear,  was  it  not  ? 
Yes,  its  hardly  in  my  line 

To  enact  "  Love  in  a  Cot." 
Well,  you  see,  I'd  had  my  swing, 

Been  engaged  to  eight  or  ten ; 
Got  to  stop  some  time  of  course, 

So  it  don't  much  matter  when. 
Auntie  hates  old  maids,  and  thinks 

Every  girl  should  marry  young  — 
On  that  theme  my  whole  life  long 

I  have  heard  the  changes  rung  I 
So,  ma  belle,  what  could  I  do  ? 

Charley  wants  a  stylish  wife, 
We'll  suit  well  enough,  no  fear, 

When  we  settle  down  for  life. 
But  for  love  —  stuff!     See  my  ring  ? 

Lovely,  isn't  it  ?     Solitaire. 
Nearly  made  Maude  Hinton  turn 

Green  , with  envy  and  despair, 
Hers  aint  half  so  nice,  you  see  — 

Did  I  write  you,  Belle,  about 
How  she  tried  for  Charley,  till 

I  sailed  in  and  cut  her  out  ? 
Now  she's  taken  Jack  McBride, 

I  believe  it's  all  from  pique  — 
Threw  him  over  once  you  know,— 

Hates  me  so  she'll  scarcely  speak. 
O  yes  !     Grace  church,  and  all  that, 

Pa  won't  mind  expense  at  last, 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  131 

I'll  be  off  his  hands  for  good  ; 

Cost  a  fortune  two  years  past. 
My  trousseau  shall  outdo  Maude's, 

I've  carte  bla,7iche  from  Pa,  you  know ; 
Mean  to  have  my  dress  from  Worth  ! 

Won't  she  just  be  raving  though  ? 


THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  BONNET  ROUGE. 


Victor  Hugo. 


XX 


lURING  the  last  days  of  May,  1793,  one  of  the  Parisian  regi- 
VJ  merits,  thrown  into  'Brittany  by  Santerre,  feconnoitered  the 
dreaded  wood  of  La  Saudraie  in  Astille.  There  were  not  more 
than  three  hundred  men,  for  the  battalion  had  been  well  nigh  swept 
off  by  this  war. 

The  forest  of  La  Saudraie  was  tragic.  The  list  of  murders  that 
had  been  committed  there  was  enough  to  make  one's  hair  stand  on 
end.  There  was  no  place  more  to  be  dreaded.  The  soldiers  moved 
cautiously  forward.  The  depths  were  full  of  flowers  ;  on  each  side 
was  a  trembling  wall  of  branches  and  dew-wet  leaves.  Here  and 
there  rays  of  sunlight  pierced  the  green  shadows.  The  soldiers 
advanced  in  silence,  step  by  step,  pushing  the  brushwood  softly 
aside.     The  birds  twittered  above  the  bayonets. 

Thirty  grenadiers,  detached  as  scouts,  and  commanded  by  a 
sergeant,  marched  at  a  considerable  distance  in  front.  The  vivan- 
diere  accompanied  them.  Suddenly  the  soldiers  of  the  party  started 
like  hunters  who  have  neared  the  hiding-place  of  their  prey.  They 
had  heard  something  like  breathing  from  the  centre  of  the  thicket. 
In  less  than  a  minute  the  place  was  surrounded.  The  soldiers 
waited  for  their  sergeant's  order.  When  he  was  about  to  cry, 
"  Fire,"  the  vivandiere  cried,  "  Halt,  don't  fire  comrades."  She 
plunged  into  the  thicket ;  the  men  followed.  There  was,  in  truth, 
some  one  there. 


%&  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

In  the  thickest  brake  was  a  kind  of  a  chamber  of  foliage  ;  a 
woman  was  seated  on  the  moss,  holding  to  her  breast  a  babe,  while 
the  fair  heads  of  two  sleeping  children  rested  on  her  knees. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  you  ?  "  cried  the  vivandiere.  "Are 
you  mad  —  a  little  more  and  you  would  have  been  blown  to  pieces.'' 
To  the  soldiers,  "  It  is  a  woman."  "  Well,  that  is  plain  to  be  seen," 
said  a  grenadier.  The  woman  stunned,  petrified  with  fear,  looked 
about  like  one  in  a  dream.  She  was  dumb  with  terror.  "  Do  not 
be  afraid  ;  we  are  the  battalion  of  the  Bonnet  Rouge.  Who  are 
you,  madam  ?  "  said  the  sergeant. 

The  woman  scanned  him  terrified.  She  was  slender,  young,  pale 
and  in  rags.     Her  feet,  shoeless  and  stockingless,  were  bleeding. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Michelle  Flechard." 

"  Have  you  a  home  ?  " 

"  I  had  one." 

"  Why  are  you  not  in  it  ?  " 

"  Because  they  burnt  it." 

"  Who  ?  " 

V  I  do  not  know,  a  battle." 

"  What  party  do  you  belong  to  ?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"Are  you  Blues  or  Whites  ?     Who  are  you  with  ?  n 

"  I  am  with  my  children." 

"  What  are  they  called  ?  " 

"  Georgette,  Rene  and  Alain." 

"And  your  husband— what  has  become  of  him  ?  " 

"  They  killed  him  in  the  hedge,  three  days  ago." 
\  "  Who,  was  it  a  Blue  or  was  it  a  White  ?  " 

"  It  was  a  bullet." 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  since  ?  " 

"  I  bear  away  my  children." 

"  Where  do  you  sleep  ?  " 

"  On  the  ground." 

"  What  do  you  eat  ?  " 

"Nothing." 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  133 

The  soldiers  made  a  circle  around  this  group  of  misery.  A  widow, 
three  orphans,  flight,  abandonment,  solitude,  war  muttering  around 
the  horizon,  hunger,  thirst,  no  other  nourishment  than  the  herbs  ol 
the  field,  no  other  roof  than  that  of  heaven. 

The  sergeant  raised  his  head  and  they  saw  tears  trickle  down  his 
face.  "  Comrades,  from  all  this  I  conclude  the  regiment  is  to  be- 
come a  father.      Is  it  agreed  ?  " 

"  Hurrah,"  chorused  the  grenadiers. 

"  Then  it  is  decided.    Behold  the  children  of  the  Bonnet  Rouge  !  " 

Some  days  later  this  gallant  band  of  Blues  was  attacked  by  an 
army  of  seven  thousand  Whites,  under  the  command  of  the  Marquis 
of  Lantenae,  and  every  soldier  to  a  man  was  sacrificed,  even  the 
vivandieres  shared  the  same  fate.  Michelle  Flechard  was  not  killed 
outright,  but  she  had  a  wound  in  her  shoulder-blade — one  in  her 
breast — a  ball  had  broken  her  collar-bone.  A  peasant  found  her, 
and  nursed  her  back  to  life.  Her  first  thought  was  for  her  babes. 
"  My  children.  Where  are  they  ?  When  can  I  go  away  from  here  ? 
You  understand  I  cannot  rest  like  this.  You  never  had  any  children, 
had  you  ?  And  I — I  had  nothing  beside  them.  What  am  I  with- 
out my  children  ?  I  am  going  to  look  for  them.  Where  are  they  ? 
La  Tourgue." 

The  dauntless  mother's  heart  knew  no  distance.  She  walked  day 
and  night,  she  begged,  she  ate  herbs,  she  lay  on  the  ground  under 
the  stars,  sometimes  in  wind  and  rain.  She  wandered  from  farm  to 
farm,  from  village  to  village.  She  stopped  on  the  threshold  of 
peasants'  cots.  Shoeless,  stockingless,  she  pressed  on  with  bleeding 
feet.  She  crossed  the  tracks  of  war,  among  gunshots,  hearing 
nothing,  seeing  nothing — seeking  her  children. 

The  little  ones  had  been  carried  by  order  of  Lantenae  to  the 
famous  fortress  of  the  Middle  Ages,  La  Tourgue.  It  was  almost 
impregnable.  A  lofty  tower  of  six  stories,  pierced  here  and  there 
with  loop  holes,  having  for  entrance  and  egress  a  single  door  of  iron. 
Behind  the  tower  a  forest.  Beneath,  a  deep,  narrow  ravine  full  of 
brushwood.  This  is  the  Tower  of  La  Tourgue,  and  in  its  top-most 
room  are  the  children  of  Michelle  Flechard.  Beneath  in  the  lowest 
room  are  all  the  men  left  to  the  Marquis  —  they  number  nineteen. 


i34  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

They  are  besieged.  A  price  is  put  upon  the  head  of  Lantenae. 
The  cry  of  "  No  mercy  —  no  quarter  "  is  heard  without  from  the 
iips  of  the  Blues.  The  Whites  within  echo  the  cry,  with  defiance. 
Nineteen  men — three  children  are  in  the  jaws  of  death.  Such  an 
attack,  such  consequences  cannot  be  told.  It  is  a  day  of  blood. 
Nineteen  against  four  thousand.  The  Marquis  alone  escapes.  He 
makes  his  way  through  the  secret  door,  but  he  is  not  far  distant, 
only  on  the  edge  of  the  forest,  hidden  among  the  brambles. 

He  hears  a  terrible  cry  over  his  head.  He  raises  his  eyes.  He 
does  not  move. 

The  cry  comes  from  Michelle,  she  whom  we  left  seeking  her  chil- 
dren. She  had  walked  for  many  days.  Had  there  been  anyone 
near  he  might  have  heard  her  ceaselessly  murmur,  "  La  Tourgue." 
Except  the  names  of  the  children  this  word  was  all  she  knew.  Sud- 
denly as  she  is  journeying  onward,  a  lofty  tower  starts  up  on  the 
extreme  edge  of  the  horizon.  She  walks  on  toward  it.  She  is 
more  than  a  league  away,  but  she  walks  on.  She  sees  the  massive 
pile  grow  slowly.  A  great  blackness  shuts  out  every  object.  A 
cloud  of  smoke  sweeps  between  her  and  the  pile  she  is  watching. 
She  closes  her  eyes  and  has  scarcely  done  so  when  a  great  light  red- 
dens her  eyelids.  She  watches  the  beginning  of  a  conflagration. 
From  black  the  smoke  becomes  scarlet,  filled  with  a  mighty  flame 
which  appears  and  disappears,  writhing  and  twisting  in  serpentine 
coils.  A  wind  sweeps  up  and  bursts  the  curtain  of  smoke.  The 
appalling  illumination  shows  her  every  detail  of  the  ancient  keep. 
She  utters  a  cry  —  she  sees  her  children.  It  is  this  that  reaches  the 
ears  of  the  Marquis  of  Lantenae.  Looking  up  from  the  edge  of 
the  plateau  he  sees  the  haggard,  anguish -stricken  face  ot  the  woman. 
She  is  appalling  in  her  agony.  She  moans  like  a  wild  beast.  Her 
eyes  shoot  lightning  through  her  tears.  Her  voice  flings  its  echoes 
down  upon  his  head. 

"Ah  my  God,  my  children  !  Those  are  my  children.  Help  ! 
Fire,  fire,  fire  !  Oh  you  brigands  !  My  children  are  burning  up  ! 
Help  !  help  !  " 

The  whole  camp  rush  out  What  is  to  be  done  !  Only  a  few 
buckets  of  water  can  be  drained  from  the  half-dried  brook  in  the 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  135 

ravine.     The  consternation  increases.      What  they  see  is  terrible. 
They  gaze  and  can  do  nothing.     The  mother  is  still  shrieking. 

"  Fire  !  I  say  fire  !  They  are  burning  up  my  children.  Oh,  the 
days  and  days  I  have  hunted  them,  and  this  is  where  I  find  them. 
They  shot  me.  They  are  burning  my  little  ones.  Help  !  help  ! 
Have  pity  on  me.  I  must  have  my  children.  God  of  mercy,  give 
me  my  children." 
*  Voices  rise.     One  calls  for  a  ladder. 

"  There  is  no  ladder." 

"  Water." 

"There  is  no  water." 

"  Up  yonder — in  the  tower — in  the  second  story,  there  is  a  door." 

"  It  is  iron." 

"  Break  it  in." 

"  Impossible." 

In  the  interval  between  the  clamors  the  triumphant  crackling  of 
the  flames  is  heard.  The  Marquis  hears  all.  He  puts  his  hand  to 
his  pocket ;  the  key  to  the  iron  door  is  there.  To  turn  back  is 
captivity — death — he  is  a  soldier,  he  is  a  man. 

He  stoops  beneath  the  vault  through  which  he  escaped  and  turns 
back.  He  holds  a  large  key  in  his  hand  ;  he  casts  a  haughty  glance 
at  the  sappers  and  walks  straight  to  the  iron  door.  He  puts  the  key 
in  the  lock — the  iron  creaks — the  door  opens  and  reveals  a  gulf  of 
flame.  The  Marquis  enters  with  firm  step  and  head  erect.  The 
men  stand  petrified  with  astonishment.  It  is  indeed  the  Lantenae. 
The  conflagration  has  not  yet  entered  the  room  where  the  children 
are.  They  are  pleased  with  the  light.  "  Pretty,"  says  Georgette — 
"  Me  warm." 

"  I  am  too  warm.  It  burns,"  says  Rene.  Then  he  sees  his 
mother.    "  Come  here,  mamma."     "  Turn  m'ma,"  repeats  Georgette. 

"  Mercy,  mercy,"  cries  the  mother.  They  can  hear  the  little  ones' 
voices,  "  Mamma,  mamma  "  Suddenly  at  the  casement  near  that 
where  the  children  stand,  a  tall  form  appears  against  a  crimson  back- 
ground of  the  flames.  Every  head  is  raised  ;  every  eye  is  fixed.  A 
man  is  in  the  library — in  the  furnace.  The  face  shows  black  against 
the  flames.     They  can   see  the  white  hair  of  the  Marquis.     The 


136  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

indomitable  old  man  stands  at  the  window,  and  is  shoving  out  an 
enormous  ladder.  He  holds  it  by  one  end  and  with  the  marvelous 
agility  of  an  athlete  he  slips  out  of  the  casement,  and  slides  along 
the  wall  toward  the  ravine.  The  ladder  settles  in  place.  Twenty 
men  rush  up,  the  Marquis  disappears  and  reappears  bearing  a  child 
in  his  arms,  it  is  Gros  Alain.  "  I  am  afraid,"  the  little  one  cries. 
He  is  passed  from  one  soldier  to  another.  Next  Rene  Jean.  The 
Marquis  goes  back  into  the  chamber  now  filled  with  flames.  Georg- 
ette is  alone. 

'  He  goes  to  her.  She  smiles  and  the  man  of  granite  feels  his  eye- 
lids moisten.  "  What  is  your  name?"  "  Orgette  "  says  she.  He 
takes  her  in  his  arms  and  she  in  turn  descends  from  man  to  man 
until  the  ground  is  reached. 

The  mother  is  mad,  intoxicated  by  the  change  ;  flung  without 
transition  from  hell  to  paradise,  she  covers  her  babes  with  frantic 
kisses,  bursts  into  a  wild  laugh  and  faints. 

The  soldiers  are  exultant,  they  clap,  their  hands,  they  leap.  The 
old  grenadiers  sob,  and  the  Marquis  of  Lantenae  from  the  grim 
warrior,  calm  and  haughty,  is  transfigured  into  an  angel  of  mercy. 


THE  STONE-CUTTER. 


Elizabeth  Akers. 


Perhaps  the  best-known  poem  of  this  author  is  "  Rock  Me  to  Sleep,  Mother." 


T 


kHERE  dwelt  in  far  Japan, 
Long  ages  since,  a  man 
Who  earned,  by  hammering  stone,  his  daily  food  — 
But  discontent  and  dole 
Lay  heavy  on  his  soul, 
Which  craved  great  riches  as  the  only  good. 

And  so  the  gods  on  high, 
Who  sometirnes  bitterly 
Punish  a  man  by  granting  all  his  prayers, 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  137 

Gave  him  a  mine  of  gold, 
And  lands  to  have  and  hold, 
And,  by  and  by,  breed  feuds  among  his  heirs. 

But  soon  he,  murmuring, 

Desired  to  be  a  king  ; 
To  reign  and  rule — ah,  that  were  perfect  bliss! 

He  wearied  earth  and  air 

With  his  incessant  prayer 
Until  the  gods  indulged  him,  even  in  this. 

His  courtiers  fawned  and  lied, 

And  rival  powers,  outside 
His  realm,  assailed  his  peace  with  fierce  debate, 

And  heaviness  and  care 

Bleached  gray  his  youthful  hair, 
And  made  him  weary  of  his  regal  state. 

"  Oh,  change  me  to  a  rock  !  " 

He  cried,  "  that  no  rude  shock 
Can  stir,  nor  any  strife  disturb  or  shake  !  " 

And  lo  !  he  stood,  ere  long, 

A  boulder,  fixed  and  strong, 
Which  torrents  could   not  move,  nor  tempests  break. 

In  vain  the  burning  heat 

Of  fiercest  sunshine  beat 
Upon  his  head ;    in  vain  the  storm-wind  smote 

His  rugged  sides  ;  in  vain 

Great  rivers,  swoln  by  rain, 
Came  roaring  from  their  mountain  caves  remote. 

He  was  at  rest ;  and  he 

Rejoiced  exceedingly, 
Saying,  "  No  more  for  me,  oh,  sweet  release  ! 

Will  there  be  change  and  woe, 

And  wavering  to  and  fro  — 
Since  I  am  fixed  in  an  eternal  peace  !  " 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

But  on  a  summer  day 

A  workman  brought  that  way 

A  hammer  and  a  chisel  — these  alone. 

He  measured  here  and  there, 
And  then,  with  patient  care, 

Began  to  cut  away  the  stubborn  stone. 

"Ah  !  "  said  the  boulder-king, 

"  What  means  this  wondrous  thing  ? 

This  plodding  workman  smites  and  conquers  me  S 
He  cuts,  as  suits  him  best, 
Huge  blocks  from  out  my  breast  — 

He  is  more  strong  than  I  !      Would  I  were  he  !  " 

And  lo,  the  powers  aloft, 

Who  had  so  long  and  oft 
Laughed  at  his  follies,  craved  and  then  outgrown, 

Again  his  pleading  heard  ; 

He,  taken  at  his  word, 
Became  once  more  a  hammerer  of  stone  ! 

So,  wiser  than  before 
And  asking  nothing  more, 

Again  about  his  olden  toil  he  went ; 
Until  he  died  from  age 
He  toiled  for  scanty  wage, 

Nor  ever  spake  a  word  of  discontent ! 


THE  SOLDIER'S   RETURN. 


Hudson  Tuttle. 


IN  the  hour  of  peril  Liberty  called  for  defenders.  She  said  to  the 
mother,  give  me  your  son,  the  pride  of  your  heart,  the  solace 
of  your  declining  years.  She  said  to  the  wife,  give  me  your  husband, 
honored  and  loved  of  your  soul.      She  said  to  the  maiden,  give  me 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  139 

iyour  lover,  on  whom  all  your  hope  of  future  joy  depends.  The 
'mother,  the  wife,  and  the  maiden,  bowed  to  the  demand,  and  with 
breaking  hearts,  through  tears  of  agony  saw  their  loved  ones  depart 
into  the  sulphur-clouds,  which,  ominous  as  the  black  pall  of  a  cyclone, 
darkened  the  horizon  and  rolled  in  thundergust  to  the  zenith. 

The  years  passed  heavily,  but  we  knew  they  were  there  somewhere 
between  us  and  the  foe,  for  the  thunders  never  slackened,  the  light- 
nings never  ceased,  and  the  hoarse  murmur  of  the  conflict  came 
upon  the  Southern  gale.  There  were  reports  of  great  battles  lost, 
and  the  pitying  heavens  looked  down  on  thousands  and  ten  thou- 
sands of  the  slain.  Battles  lost,  but  we  lost  no  hope  or  courage.  The 
soldiers  in  the  field,  beaten  back,  retreating,  were  not  conquered. 
,We  heard  of  battles  won,  and  from  rocky  Maine  to  the  Golden  Gate 
the  cannon  boomed  the  glad  tidings,  and  strong  men  grasped  each 
others'  hands,  not  ashamed  of  the  tremor  of  voice  and  moistened 
eye.  The  sky  darkened.  The  enemy  in  the  field,  treason  at  home, 
the  sympathy  of  foreign  nations,  incapacity  of  commanding  officers, 
land  mistakes  and  blunders  far  worse  than  crimes,  disheartened  the 
lover  of  his  country.  Yet  the  divine  purpose  expressed  itself 
superior  to  human  design,  and  wrote  a  shining  page  of  civilization's 
Jhistofy.  The  soldier  marches  in  the  van  of  human  progress,  and 
his  sword  makes  possible  the  plowing  of  harvest  fields. 


THE  SENATOR'S  GRANDMOTHER. 


Patience  Stapleton. 


Author  of  "The  Major's  Christmas"  and  "Jean  McClure." 


"TV LI  EVE  I  met  ye  on  the  keers.     Jones  yer  name  ? 

LJ     S"prised  ye  knowed  me;   I  don't  feel  quite  the  same 
In  city  toggery.     Yer  wonder  why  I  came 
Here  from  Texas,  travelin'  night  an'  day  ? 
Look  there,  the  old  lady  glarncin'  this  way. 

"  She's  wavin'  her  umbrel,  big  smile  on  her  face ; 
Guess  she's  some  set  back,  seein'  me  in  this  place. 


i4o  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

Eyes  bright,  cheeks  pink,  mighty  little  trace 

She  bears  of  ninety  years.      Don't  she  set  up  straight  ? 

'Fraid  she'll  spile  that  silk  gown,  I  calkerlate. 

"  While  vvaitin'  fur  the  Senator,  down  there 

Ter  make  his  speech  —  him  with  the  yaller  hair  — 

He's  from  my  town ;   if  the  bosses  don't  care 

If  I  talk  in  this  Senate  chamber,  I'd  tell 

Ye  their  hist'ry.     Ye'd  like  ter  hear  it  right  well  ? 

"  Ye've  seen  the  Rockies;   them  quiet  peaks  where  snow 
Dies  year  'round  —  all  hid  in  misty  blue  an'  b'low 
The  foothills  brown.     Grand  as  most  mount'ins  go  ! 
Them  gold-hearted  mount'ins  weepin'  silver  tears 
Like  a  magnet  draws  steel,  drew  us  old  pioneers. 

"  Though  I  was  a  '49er,  once  again 
I  set  out,  jined  a  long  emigrant  train 
Bound  fur  Colorado  —  'way  across  the  plain. 
She  wa'  with  'em ;  our  teams  fell  some  behind 
She  drivin'  her  oxen,  mandike  but  more  kind, 

"  She  told  me,  secretdike,  she'd  come  out  West 
Ter  find  her  son.     My  'pinion  wan't  the  best 
Of  sich  as  him,  but  this  I  never  confessed. 
She'd  ask  about  my  life ;  sayin'  sorter  sad  : 
'  Did  ye  see  my  Phil  ?  '     I  used  ter  wish  I  had. 

"  But  the  world  is  wide.     I  knowed  it  couldn't  be, 
Still  I  talked  of  Cal'forny,  till  it  wore  on  me 
Drorin'  u.ind  pictures  of  all  the  men  I  see, 
She'd  shake  her  head,  her  eyes  with  tears  'ud  fill  — 
'  Pears  like  none  of  'em  makes  me  see  my  Phil.' 

"The  sun  was  fiery  red;   the  sand  burnt  our  feet; 
Men  an'  animals  alike  dropped  dead  from  the  heat 
She  nursed  all  the  sick,  motherdike  and  sweet. 
Nights  in  that  barren  land,  when  I  was  alone 
She'd  come  ter  my  tent  ter  talk  ter  me  of  home, 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  141 

**  Picturin'  the  old  house,  the  lilacs  by  the  door. 
The  graves  in  the  medder  she'd  see  nevermore  — 
Though  she  kep'  up  brave,  I  see  her  heart  was  sore. 
Patient  she  searched  in  many  a  mining  cam;) 
Then  she  come  ter  me,  worn  with  her  weary  tramp. 

"  The  one  woman  in  the  camp,  she  didn't  care  ; 
Prim  an'  old-fashioned,  as  ye  see  her  there. 
Kind  an'  helpful  —  the  sort  o'  goods  that  wear. 
Singhv  hymns  o'  Sundays,  in  a  low,  sweet  voice  — 
'  I  Would  Not  Live  Alway,'  that  was  her  choice. 

"  There  was  up  the  mount'in  an  old  pioneer  tough. 
Grizzly  Bill,  the  scout.     Grizzly  he  were  enough, 
With  his  bloodshot  eyes  and  long,  gray  beard  rough. 
He'd  come  down  the  mount'in,  Sunday  afternoons, 
Ridin'  like  a  devil,  jest  ter  hear  them  toons. 

"Jack  Bean  was  his  pard;  one  Sunday  he  wan't  found, 

An'  we  calkerlated  had  been  shoved  under  ground, 

'Count  o'  Bill's  wantin'  ter  be  the  boss  around. 

Bill  wan't  popular ;  the  end  ye  kin  see ; 

We  thort  he'd  improve  at  some  hight  on  a  tree. 

"  We  kep'  it  still  an'  come  on  him  by  s'prise ; 
Like  all  sich  villains  he  told  a  mess  o'  lies. 
He  silenced,  though,  when  he  see  death  in  our  eyes. 
'  I  Would  Not  Live  Alway,'  her  favorite  lines, 
Follered  us  lynchers  up  under  the  pines. 

"  Bill  coughed,  husky-like,  '  Boys,  one  last  thing: 
'Take  me  back  ter  camp,  jest  ter  hear  her  sing  — 
Ever  through  eternity  them  words  will  ring.' 
We  was  mussiful  an'  took  him  nigh  her  hut, 
Him  bein'  bound  so  he  couldn't  poss'bly  cut. 

"  '  I  Would  Not  Live  Alway,'  she  quavered.     Then 
With  a  great  convulsion  he  bust  from  the  men, 
Breakin'  stout  ropes  as  if  paper  they'd  been. 


i42  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

He  rushed  in  the  hut,  then  we  heerd  a  cry  — 
Wakin'  or  sleepin',  I'll  hear  till  I  die. 

"  Grizzly  Bill,  Bearded  Terror  of  the  West, 
Knelt  in  that  hut,  his  head  on  his  mother's  breast. 
It  calmed  us,  somehow.     Yer  won't  believe  the  rest. 
But  in  a  back  room,  layin'  on  a  bunk, 
Was  Jack  Bean,  the  missin',  sleepin'  off  a  drunk. 

"  He  fell  by  her  door ;  she,  with  kindly  care, 
Helped  him  ter  her  house,  out  of  the  night  air. 
I  kinder  think  that  Providence  sent  us  there. 
Bill  made  a  strike  soon,  then  he  quit  the  life, 
Went  ter  Texas,  where  he'd  a  child  and  wife. 

"  That  there's  Bill.     Purty  stout,  with  beard  of  snow, 
Rich,  fine-lookin'  man,  as  pioneers  go. 
That's  his  wife  on  the  left;   the  son  ye  know  — 
There  he  gets  up,  the  light  haired  man,  ye  see, 
Young  fur  Senator,  but  smart  as  he  can  be. 

"  His  grandmother;  how  proud  she  sets,  an'  still; 
I'll  bet  she  furgets  an'  thinks  'tis  '  little  Phil,' 
The  lad  she  lost,  not  the  worn,  grizzly  Bill. 
Wal,  its  wuth  my  trip,  hearin'  him  do  so  well ; 
Senate  ain't  fur  from  White  House,  I've  hearn  tell." 


THE   BONNY   WEE   HOOSE. 


William  Lyle. 


It  is  a  good  exercise  for  pupils  to    translate  a  selection  in   dialect,  like  this,  into 
English.    Nearly  all  the  Scotch  words  here  given  are  found  in  Webster's  Dictionary. 


N 


AE  palace  hae  I  wi'  gilded  ha's, 

Nae  shinin'  an'  picture-panelled  wa's. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  143 

Gran'  marble  pillars,  an'  sculptures  rare  — 
That  some  folks  pride  in  — ye'll  no'  find  there  ; 
An'  yet  there's  a  sweetness  a'  its  ain, 
In  that  wee  hoose  wi'  the  threshold  plain  — 
The  bonny  wee  hoose  whilk  nae  ane  sees  — 
The  dear  auld  biggin  aneath  the  trees. 

Noo  stay,  let  me  tell  ye  a'  whas  there  — 
There's  love,  there's  content,  a  canny  pair, 
An'  twa  braw  bairnies,  guid  soncy  chiels, 
Wha  ne'er  let  grasses  grow  at  their  heels, 
An'  syne,  there's  the  mither  —  bless  her  name 
Her  presence  aye  mak's  the  hoose  a  hame  — 
That  bonny  wee  hoose,  whilk  nae  ane  sees 
Hidin'  itseP  neath  the  chestnut  trees. 

I  sometimes  gang  oot  the  warl'  tae  see, 
But  little  grows  there  that  pleases  me. 
There's  plenty  o'  noise,  an'  senseless  strife, 
But  no  muckle  love  —  the  spice  o'  life. 
Like  a  hounded  hare  on  some  strange  track, 
I  think  on  my  hame,  an'  sune  rin  back 
Tae  that  wee  hoosie,  whilk  nae  ane  sees  — 
Simple  an'  silent  under  the  trees. 

Thank  God  for  the  hoose,  an'  a'  that's  there  — 
The  kindly  smile,  an'  the  honest  prayer, 
An'  when  we  seek  that  far  awa'  Ian', 
Whaur  mansions  wait  us  ho  made  wi'  han', 
We'll  leave  warm  blessin's  mixed  wi'  oor  tears 
Whaur  we've  been  sae  happy  a'  oor  years  — - 
On  that  wee  hoosie,  whilk  nae  ane  sees  — 
Sittin'  sae  modest  under  the  trees. 


t44  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

DECORATION    DAY. 


Dr    E.  P.  Thwing. 


The  following  tribute  was  paid  the  speaker  by  a  morning  paper:  "The  de- 
livery was  the  impersomfication  of  eloquence  bubbling  up  from  a  true  patriot's 
heart  —  clear  and  sparkling  as  the  waters  of  a  running  brook,  and  as  harmoniously 
ringing  as  chimes  to  a  marriage  feast." 

'  PHE  tender  and  beautiful  floral  service  of  this  Memorial  Day  is 
I  completed.  We  have  marched  with  muffled  drum  and  plain- 
live  music  to  the  graves  of  our  dead  soldiers  and  strown  them  with 
rose  and  lily,  with  violet  and  evergreen.  The  westering  sun  lin- 
gered lovingly  on  these  purple  mountains  that  stand  like  sentinels 
to  guard  the  dust  of  the  brave  who  have  bled  in  defence  of  our 
land  and  our  liberties.  We  are  now  gathered,  as  the  evening  lamps 
are  lighted,  to  repeat  in  song  and  story  those  deeds  of  the  departed 
which  have  enshrined  their  names  in  our  grateful  memory,  and  to 
deepen  those  noble,  patriotic  impulses,  which  were  the  source  and 
inspiration  of  their  heroic  lives. 

"  Wave  the  flag  once  more  before  my  eyes  !  "  said  a  dying  color- 
bearer  as  he  found  himself  sinking  into  the  last  sleep.  "  The  dear 
old  flag  never  touched  the  ground,"  said  another  soldier  sinking  on 
the  ramparts  of  Wagner.  To  them  the  starry  folds  of  the  bunting 
they  bore  were  an  emblem  of  an  undivided  country,  a  symbol  of 
glory  and  honor  dearer  to  them  than  life  itself.  Such  is  the.  inspir- 
ing influence  of  intelligent,  heroic  loyalty.  It  is  far  nobler  than 
mere  physical  hardihood,  purer  than  the  selfish  sentiment  of  personal 
friendship,  and  therefore  a  more  enduring  and  transforming  power. 
Keep,  then,  the  flag  of  the  nation  waving  before  our  eyes  ;  in  other 
words,  make  conspicuous  the  principles  of  which  it  is  the  embla- 
zonry, fealty  to  truth,  to  honor,  to  liberty  and  law.  Let  partisan 
zeal  and  mere  personal  aggrandizement  be  forgotten  in  the  pursuit 
of  the  highest  aims.  Let  the  spirit  of  Abraham  Lincoln  be  ours, 
who,  in  1858  —  standing  at  Alton,  where  Lovejoy  had  fallen  a 
martyr  to  freedom  —  said,  "Think  nothing  of  me  ;  take  no  thought 
for  the  political  fate  of  any  man  whatsoever,  but  come  back  to  the 
truths  that  are  in  the  Declaration  of  Independence.      You  may  do 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  145 

anything  with  me  you  choose,  if  you  will  but  heed  these  sacred  prin- 
i  fciples.  You  may  not  only  defeat  me  for  the  Senate,  but  you  may 
take  me  ami  put  me  to  death!  I  am  nothing.  Judge  Douglas  is 
nothing  ;  but  do  not  destroy  that  immortal  emblem  of  humanity  — 
the  Declaration  of  Independence." 

It  is  with  prophetic  ken,  when  at  Philadelphia,  he  reasserts  his  fealty 
to  this  same  supreme  law :  "  If  this  country  cannot  be  saved  with- 
out giving  up  that  principle,  I  was  about  to  say  I  would  be  assassi- 
nated on  the  spot/"  Then  he  repeated  again  his  calm,  serious, 
intelligent  consecration  to  the  cause  of  Liberty  and  Union  in  these 
closing  words :  "  I  have  said  nothing  but  what  I  am  willing  to  live 
by,  and,  if  it  be  the  pleasure  of  the  Almighty  God,  to  die  by  /" 

That  was  heroism,  lofty,  sublime,  god-like  heroism.  It  was 
grander  far  than  the  heroism  of  the  battle-field,  where  mere  brutal 
courage  plays  an  important  part ;  where  revenge  sometimes  is  fired 
by  pain  and  sight  of  blood  ;  where  there  is  the  wild  enthusiasm  of 
numbers  massed  under  the  lead  of  magnetic,  men  ;  wheie  thee  are 
thrilling  battle-songs  poured  forth  from  bearded  lips,  joined  with 
clang  of  cymbals,  blare  of  trumpets,  beat  of  drum  ;  and  where, 
amid  booming  cannon,  ringing  sabre  and  rattling  shell,  the  soldier 
forgets  fatigue,  pain,  even  life  itself  in  the  delirium  of  the  hour. 
This  defiance  of  death  is  heroic  ;  this  valor,  audacity,  and  gallantry, 
worthy  of  praise  ;  but  it  ranks  lower  than  this  serene  quietude  of 
soul  that  is  born  of  humble,  holy  faith,  which  sustains  one  without 
these  added  supports. 

Our  hero  dead  are  lying  in  a  thousand  burial  places  from  Maine 
to  Louisiana.  Peace  reigns.  But  is  there  not  still  an  unended  con- 
test of  ideas  ?  Are  not  the  great  tutelar  forces  of  a  Christian  civil- 
ization in  earnest  conflict  with  hostile  influences  ?  Have  we  been 
wholly  victorious  over  partisan  hatred,  the  prejudice  of  caste,  of 
color  and  of  clan  ?  Can  any  party  show  a  wholly  clean  record  ? 
its  leaders  a  purely  disinterested  and  patriotic  purpose  ?  Are  there 
no  ominous  tendencies  at  work  in  the  rapid  growth  of  our  material 
wealth  and  in  the  importation  of  alien  and  destruclive  elements  ? 

We  have  scattered  our  floral  tributes  to-day  over  the  graves  of 
the  patriotic  dead.     These  frail  mementoes   of  affection   will   soon 


1 46  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

wither,  but  let  not  the  memory  of  these  martyrs  fail  to  inspire  in  us 
a  purer,  holier  life  !  The  roll-call  brings  to  mind  their  faces  and 
their  deeds.  They  were  faithful  to  the  end.  The  weary  march,  the 
bivouac,  the  battle,  are  still  remembered  by  the  survivors.  But  your 
line,  comrades,  is  growing  slenderer  every  year.  One  by  one  you 
will  drop  out  of  the  ranks,  and  other  hands  may  ere  long  strew  your 
grave  with  flowers  as  you  have  done  to-day  in  yonder  cemetery. 
When  mustered  in  the  last  grand  review,  with  all  the  veterans  and 
heroes  of  earth,  may  each  receive  with  jubilant  heart  the  great 
Commander's  admiring  tribute  "  Well  done  ! "  and  become  with 
Him  partaker  of  a  felicity  that  is  enduring  and  triumphant ! 


THE  MUSIC   OF   NATURE. 


Mary  Frost  Ormsby. 


NOT  alone  in  Grand  Cathedrals,  not  alone  in  Concert  Hall 
Do  we  hear  the  sweetest  music,  answering  every  Spirit's  call; 
But  in  God's  own  living  temple,  'long  the  corridors  of  time, 
Do  we  hear  the  sweetest  music,  most  enchanting,  most  sublime. 

Sit  with  me  by  peaceful  river,  or  walk  by  mountain,  glen  or  rill, 
Listen  to  the  little  songsters  warbling  songs  each  soul  shall  fill; 
There  the  diapason's  perfect ;   ringing  out  melodious  song, 
There  we  would  repose  in  quiet,  away  from  earth's  tumultuous  throng. 

Or,  watch  the  ocean  when,  at  sunset,  tinted  with  its  rainbow  hue. 
You're  charmed  with  its  majestic  beauty,  then  listen  to  its  .nusic  too  ; 
We'll  lift  our  souls  in  prayerful  spirit,  hear  music  in  its  tumultuous  roar, 
See  "  Emblem  "  of  the  life  eternal,  the  perfect  music  evermore. 

Yes!    Nature  forms  one  perfect  chorus,  one  anthem   Heavenly  and 

sublime, 
May  none  e'er  prove  a  note  discordant,  in  this  vast  harmony  divine 
'Till  our  souls  are  filled  with  music  and  each  feels  its  healing  power, 
And  round  each  stone  and  hearth-stone  music  forever  comes  in  mystic 

shower. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  :47 

COUPON     BONDS.     (Abridged    and  arranged.) 

1.  T.  Trowbridge. 


From  "Coupon  Bonds  and  other  Stories,"  by  special  permission. 

To  bring  this  sketch  within  the  limits  desired,  it  has  been  found  necessary  to 
omit  some  of  the  characters  and  not  follow  out  the  whole  story.  Read  the 
descriptive  parts  with  your  own  tone  and  expression  of  face.  Idealize  the  charac- 
ters and  invest  each  one  with  a  marked  individuality.  Be  careful  to  keep  these 
peculiarities  clear,  and  you  have  an  inimitably  good  reading. 


ON  a  certain  mild  March  evening,  A.D.  1864,  the  Ducklow  kitchen 
had  a  general  air  of  waiting  for  somebody.  Mrs.  Uucklow  sat 
knitting  by  the  light  of  a  kerosene  lamp,  the  side-table  was  set  with 
ia  single  plate,  knife  and  fork,  and  cup  and  saucer,  indicating  that 
the  person  waited  for  was  expected  to  partake  of  some  refreshments. 

Behind  the  stairway  was  a  small  boy,  who  exclaimed  rather  than 
inquired : 

"  He'll  want  me  to  hold  the  lantern  for  him  to  take  care  of  the 
hoss." 

"  No,  no,  Taddy,  you'll  only  be  in  the  way  if  you  set  up." 

"  Say,  ma,  do  ye  think  he'll  bring  me  home  a  drum  ?  " 

"  You'll  know  in  the  morning." 

"  I  want  to  know  to-night.     He  said  mabby  he  would.     Say, 
can't  I  set  up  ?  " 

"  I'll  let  ye  know  whether  you  can  set  up,  after  you've  been  told 
so  many  times  !  " 

So   saying,  Mrs.    Ducklow  rose  from    her  chair,  laid  down  her 

I  knitting-work    and   started   for   the  stairway  door  with  great  energy 

and  a  rattan.     But  Taddy,  who  perceived  retribution  approaching, 

did  not  see  fit  to  wait  for  it.     He  darted  up  the  stairs  and  crept  into 

I  his  bunk  with  the  lightness  and  agility  of  a  squirrel. 

"  I'm  a-bed  !      Say,  ma,  I'm  a-bed  !  "  he  cried,  eager  to  save  the 
1  excellent    lady    the    trouble    of  ascending   the  stairs.     "  I'm  'most 
asleep  a'readv  !  " 

"  It's  a  good  thing  for  you  you  be  !  "  said  Mrs.  Ducklow. 

Presently  the  sound  of  wheels  coming  into  the  yard  told  her  that 
the  person  so  long  waited  for  had  arrived. 
■ 


ill 


ht 


148  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

"  That  you  ?  "  said  she,  opening  the  kitchen  door  and  looking  out 
into  the  darkness. 

"Yes,"  replied  a  man's  voice. 

"Ye  want  the  lantern  ?  " 

"  No  ;  jest  set  the  lamp  in  the  winder,  and  I  guess  I  can  git  alon 
Whoa!  "     And  the  man  jumped  to  the  ground.  |en 

"  Had  good  luck  ?  "  the  woman  inquired  in  a  low  voice. 

"  I'll  tell  ye  when  I  come  in,"  was  the  evasive  answer. 

"  Has  he  bought  me  a  drum  ?  "  bawled  Taddy  from  the  chamber 
stairs. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  come  up  there  and  'tend  to  ye  ?  "  demanded 
Mrs.  Ducklow. 

The  boy  was  not  particularly  ambitious  of  enjoying  that  honor. 

"  You  be  still  and  go  to  sleep,  then,  or  you'll  git  drummed  J" 

And  she  latched  the  stairway  door,  greatly  to  the  dismay  of  || 
Master  Taddy,  who  felt  that  some  vast  and  momentous  secret  was  1  lis 
being  kept  from  him.  Overhearing  whispered  conferences  between  I 
his  adopted  parents  in  the  morning,  he  had  gathered  a  fact  and  II' 
drawn  an  inference,  namely,  that  a  great  purchase  was  to  be  made 
by  Mr.  Ducklow  that  day  in  town,  and  that  on  his  return  he  (Taddy)  J  21 
was  to  be  surprised  by  the  presentation  of  what  he  had  long  coveted 
and  teased  for — a  new  drum. 

To  lie  quietly  in  bed  under  such  circumstances  was  an  act  that 
required  more  self-control  than  Master  Taddy  possessed.  Accord- 
ingly he  stole  down  stairs  and  listened,  feeling  sure  that  if  the  drum 
should  come  in,  Mrs.  Ducklow,  and  perhaps  Mr.  Ducklow  himself, 
would  be  unable  to  resist  the  temptation  of  thumping  it  softly  to  try 
its  sound,  and  so  he  ventured  to  unlatch  the  stairway  door,  open  it 
a  crack, —  and  peep'. 

Mr.  Ducklow  entered,  bringing  a  number  of  parcels,  but  no  drum 
was  visible  to  Taddy. 

"  Did  you  buy  ?  "  whispered  Mrs.  Ducklow,  relieving  him  of  his 
load. 

\Hcre  is  a  good  chance  for  gesture  and  facial  expression, ,]  Mr 
Ducklow  pointed  mysteriously  at  the  stair-way  door,  lifting  his  eye^ 
brows  interrogatively. 


EL0CUT10NAR  Y  STUDIES.  i VJ 

"Taddy?"  said  Mrs.  Ducklow,  "Oh,  he's  abed,  though  I  never 
t  my  life  had  such  a  time  to  get  him  off;  he  was  possessed  with  the 
'ilea  that  you  was  to  buy  something,  and  he  wanted  to  set  up  and 
ee  what  it  was. 

"  Strange  how  children  will  ketch  things,  best  you  can  do  to  pre- 
ent,"  said  Mr.  Ducklow. 

"  But  did  ye  buy  ?  " 

"  Ydu  better  take  them  matches  and  put  'em  out  of  the  way,  fust 
hing,  fore  ye  forgit  it." 

"  Come,"  said  she,  after  hastily  disposing  of  the  matches,  'what's 
he  use  of  keepin'  me  in  suspense  ?     Did  you  buy  ?  " 

"  Where  did  you  put  the  matches  ?  " 

"  In  the  little  tin  pail  where  we  always  keep  'em,  of  course.'' 

"You  needn't  be  cross;  I  asked  'cause  I  didn't  hear  ye  put  the 
lover  on.  I  don't  believe  ye  did  put  the  cover  on  either  ;  and  1 
ihan't  be  easy  until  ye  do." 

Mrs.  Ducklow  returned  to  the  pantry  and  her  husband  heard  the 
cover  go  on  with  a  click. 

He  removed  one  boot  and  then  drew  gently  on  the  other.  As  it 
came  off,  something  fell  out  on  the  floor.  He  picked  it  up  and 
landed  it  with  a  triumphant  smile  to  Mrs.  Ducklow. 

I"  Oh,  indeed  !   is  this  the " 
The  package  consisted  of  a  large,  unsealed  envelope,  and  folded 
papers  within. 

"  But  what  made  ye  carry  'em  in  yer  boot  so  ?  " 

"  To  tell  the  truth,"  said  Mr.  Ducklow,  in  a  suppressed  voice,  "  I 
tvas  afraid  o'  bein'  robbed.  So,  jest  as  I  got  clear  o'  the  town,  I 
:ook  it  out  o'  my  pocket  (meaning,  not  the  town,  but  the  envelope 
containing  the  papers)  an'  tucked  it  down  my  boot-leg.  Then,  all 
the  way  home,  I  was  scaret  when  I  was  ridin'  alone,  an'  still  more 
scaret  when  I  heard  anybody  comin'  after  me.  You  see,  it's  jest 
like  so  much  money." 

And  he  arranged  the  window  curtain  in  a  manner  to  prevent  the 
sharpest-eyed  burglar  from  peeping  in  and  catching  a  glimpse  of  the 
papers. 

He  neglected  to  secure  the  stairway  door,   however.     There,  in 


IS©  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 


a 


Di 


his  hiding-place  behind  it,  stood   Taddy,  peeping  and  listening  in 
fever  of  curiosity  which  nothing  could  chill.      He  had  not  yet  fully 
given  up  the  idea  of  a  new  drum,  although  the  image,  which  vaguely 
shaped   itself  in    his    mind,   of  Mr.    Ducklow  "  tucking  it  down  his  II 
boot-leg,"  presented  difficulties. 

"This  is  the  bond,  you  see,"  Mr.  Ducklow  explained;  "and  all 
these  little  things  that  fill  out  the  sheet  are  the  cowpons.  You  have 
only  to  cut  off  one  o'  these,  take  it  to  the  bank  when  it  is  due,  and 
draw  the  interest  on  it  in  gold  !  " 

"  But  suppose  you  lose  the  bonds  ?  "  queried  Mrs.  Duck'ow. 

"That's  what  I've  been  thinkin'  of;  that's  what's  made  me  so 
narvous.  I  supposed  't  would  be  like  so  much  railroad  stock,  good 
for  nothin'  to  nobody  but  the  owner.  But  the  man  to  the  bank  said 
no, — 't  only  was  like  so  much  currency,  and  I  must  look  out  for  it. 
That's  what  filled  all  the  bushes  with  robbers  as  I  come  along  the 
road.  I  don't  see  how  we're  to  keep  the  plaguy  things  so  we  sha'n't 
feel  uneasy  about  'em." 

"  Nor  I  neither !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ducklow,  turning  pale. 
"  Suppose  the  house  should  take  fire  !  or  burglars  should  break  in  ! 
I  don't  wonder  you  was  so  particular  about  the  matches  !  Dear 
me!  I  shall  be  frightened  to  death  !  I'd  no  idee  't  was  to  be  such 
dangerous  property  !  I  shall  be  thinking  of  fires  and  burglars  !  — 
O-h-h-h !  " 

Mr.  Ducklow  sprang  back  against  the  table  set  for  his  supper  with 
a  force  that  made  everything  jar.  Then  he  sprang  forward  again, 
instinctively  reaching  to  grasp  and  save  from  plunder  the  coupon 
bonds.  But  by  this  time  both  he  and  his  wife  had  become  aware  of 
the  nature  of  the  intrusion. 

"  Thaddeus  I  "  ejaculated  the  lady.  "  How  came  you  here  ?  Get 
up  !      Give  an  account  of  yourself!  " 

Taddy's  abrupt  appearance  in  the  room  had  been  altogether  invol- 
untary. Leaning  forward,  he  had  pitched  from  the  stairway  into 
the  kitchen  with  a  violence  that  threw  the  door  back  against  the 
wall  with  a  bang,  and  laid  him  out,  a  sprawling  figure  in  scanty  ? 
ghostly  apparel,  on  the  floor. 


;: 


ELOCUTIONAR  Y  STUDIES.  1 5 1 

"What  ye   want?      What  ye  here  for  ?  "  sternly  demanded   Mr. 
Oucklow,  snatching  him  up  by  one  arm,  and  shaking  him. 
I    "  Don't  know,"  faltered  the  luckless  youngster,  speaking  the  truth 
or  once  in  his  life.     "  Fell." 

"Fell!  How  did  you  come  to  fall  ?  What  are  you  out  o'  bed 
for  ?  " 

1  "  Don't  know," — snivelling  and  rubbing  his  eyes.  "  Didn't  know 
|[  was." 

"  Got  up  without  knowing  it !  That's  a  likely  story  !  How 
;ould  that  happen,  you,  sir?"  said  Mrs.  Ducklow. 

"  Don't  know,  'thout  't  was  I  got  up  in   my   sleep,"  said   Taddy, 

,vho  had  on   rare   occasions   been   known   to   indulge   in   moderate 

somnambulism. 
1 

"  In  your  sleep  !  "  said  Mr.  Ducklow,  incredulously. 

"  I  guess  so.  I  was  dreamin'  you  brought  me  home  a  new  drum, 
, —  tucked  down  yer — boot  leg,"  faltered  Taddy. 

"  I  dreamt  you  was  blowin'  it  up,  and  I  sprung  to  ketch  it,  when, 
ifust  I  knowed,  I  was  on  the  floor,  like  a  thousan'  o'  brick  !  'Most 
oroke  my  knee-pans  !  "  whimpered  Taddy.  "  Say,  didn't  ye  bring 
ne  home  nothin  '?     What's  them  things?  " 

"  Nothin'  little  boys  know  anything  about.  Now  run  back  to 
wed  again.  I  forgot  to  buy  you  a  drum  to-day,  but  I'll  git  ye  some- 
thin1  next  time  I  go  to  town, —  if  I  think  on  't." 

"  Somebody's  comin'  !  What  a  lookin'  object  you  are,  to  be  seen 
lby  visitors  !  " 

'I  There  was  a  knock.  Taddy  disappeared.  Mr.  Ducklow  turned 
'anxiously  to  his  wife,  who  was  hastily  hiding  the  bonds  in  her  palpi- 
tating bosom. 

"Who  can  it  be  this  time  o'  night  ?  " 
;     "  Sakes  alive  !  "  said  Mrs.  Ducklow,  in  whose  mind  burglars  were 
uppermost,  "  I  wish,  whoever  't  is,  they'd  keep  away  !      Go   to   the 
.door,"  she  whispered,  resuming  her  work. 

(  It  was  a  neighbor  who  called  upon  some  errand  and  remained 
but  a  short  time. 

"  I  do  wish  folks  would  stay  to  home."  said  Mrs.  Ducklow,  after 
Che  visitor  had  gone. 


1 5 2  ELOCUTIONAR  Y  STUDIES. 

"  You've  got  the  bonds  safe  ?  "  said  Mr.  Ducklow,  putting  on  his 
waistcoat. 

"  Yes ;  but  I  won't  engage   to  keep  'em  safe.     Here,  you  take 

>_, .  jj 

em. 

"  Don't  be  foolish.  You  don't  suppose  I  want  to  lug  'em  around 
with  me  wherever  I  go,  do  ye  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  it's  no  great  lug.  What  in  the  world  we're  going  to  do 
with  'em  I  don't  see.  If  we  go  out,  Ave  can't  take  'em  with  us,  for 
fear  of  losing  'em,  or  of  being  robbed  ;  and  we  shan't  dare  to  leave 
'em  to  home,  for  fear  the  house  '11  burn  up  or  git  broke  into." 

"  We  can  hide  'em  where  no  burglar  can  find  'em.  I  guess  we 
better  put  'em  in  the  clock-case  for  to-night,  hadn't  we  ?  " 

"  Jest  where  they'd  be  discovered  if  the  house  was  robbed.  No 
['ve  an  idea.     Slip  'em  under  the  settin'-room  carpet." 

This  was  done  and  a  chair  set  over  them. 

"  What  noise  was  that  ?  "  said  the  farmer,  starting.  "  Thaddeus," 
cried  Mrs.  Ducklow,  "  is  that  you  ?  "  It  was  Thaddeus,  indeed, 
who,  awaked  from  a  real  dream  of  the  drum  this  time,  had  sto've 
cautiously  upon  the  scene.  What  were  the  old  people  hiding  under 
the  carpet  ?  It  must  Le  those  curious  things  in  the  envelope.  What 
were  they  anyway  ? 

Taddy  was  peeping  and  considering  when  he  heard  his  name 
called.  He  would  have  glided  back  to  bed,  but  Mrs.  Ducklow  was 
too  quick  for  him.     "  What  do  you  want  now  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  I-I  want  you  to  scratch  my  back,"  said  Taddy. 

She  had  often  complied  with  a  similar  request,  but  was  now  in  n'< 
mood  to  be  trifled  with.  ' 

"  I'll  scratch  your  back  for  ye  !  "  And  seizing  her  rattan,  she  lai< 
on  a  few  sound  blows.  "  There,  that's  a  scratching  that  '11  last  y< 
for  one  while." 

Taddy  went  back  to  bed,  cried  himself  to  sleep  and  dreamed  th;i 
he  was  himself  a  drum,  and  that  Mrs.  Ducklow  beat  him. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  Mrs.  Ducklow  exclaimed :  "  What' 
the  reason  you  can't  sleep  ?  " 

"  I  think — I'm  pretty  sure — hark  !  I  heard  something:  soundec 
like  somebody  gettin'  into  the  kitchen  winder !  " 


ELOCUTJONAR Y  STUDIES.  1 53 

"  It's  your  narvousness."  Yet  Mr.  Ducklow  listened  for  further 
indications  of  burglary.      "  Why  can't  ye  be  quiet  and  go  to  sleep  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  heard  something !  Anybody  might  have  looked 
through  the  blinds  and  seen  us  puttin'  —  you  know  —  under  the 
carpet." 

"  Nonsense  !  't  a'n't  at  all  likely." 

But  Mr.  Ducklow  was  more  alarmed  than  he  was  willing  to  con- 
fess. He  lay  awake,  hearing  burglars  in  all  parts  of  the  house  for 
an  hour  longer. 

"What  now  ?  "  suddenly  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ducklow,  starting  up  in 
bed. 

"  I  thought  I  might  as  well  git  up  and  satisfy  myself,"  replied  her 
^husband,  in  a  low,  agitated  voice. 

He  had  risen,  and  was  groping  his  way  to  the  kitchen. 

"  Is   there   anything  ? "   she   inquired,    after    listening    long   with 
1  chilling  blood,  expecting  at  each  moment  to  hear  him  knocked  down 
or  throttled. 

He  made  no  reply,  but  presently  came  gliding  softly  back  again. 

"  I  can't  find  nothin'.      But  I  never  in  all  my  life  heard  the  floors 
creak  so  !      I  could  have  sworn  there  was  somebody  walkin'  over 
'em  !  " 
j       "  I  guess  you're  a  little  excited,  a'n't  ye  ?  " 

"No, — I  got  over  that;  but  I  did  hear  noises!"  Returning  to 
his  pillow  he  dismissed  his  fears,  and  once  more  composed  hi> 
mind  for  slumber. 

"  Father  !  "  said  Mrs.  Ducklow,  giving  fiim  a  violent  shake. 

"  Hey  ?  what  ?  " — arousing  from  his  first  sound  sleep. 

"  Don't  you  smell  something  burning  ?  " 

Ducklow  snuffed ;  Mrs.  Ducklow  snuffed  ;  they  sat  up  in  bed,  and 
snuffed  vivaciously  in  concert. 

"  No, — I  can't  say  I  do.     Did  you  ?  " 

"Jest  as  plain  as  ever  I  smelt  anything  in  my  life  !  But  I  don't 
so  " — snuff,  snuff — "  not  quite  so  distinct  now." 

"  Seems  to  me  I  do  smell  somethin',"  said  Mr.  Ducklow,  imagina- 
tion coming  to  his  aid.      "  It  can't  be  the  matches,  can  it  ?  " 

"  I  thought  of  the  matches,  but  I  certainly  covered  'em  up  tight." 


1 54  ELOCUTIONAR Y  STUDIES. 

They  snuffed  again — first  one,  then  the  other, — now  a  series  of 
quick,  short  snuffs,  then  one  long,  deep  snuff,  then  a  snuff  by  both 
together. 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Ducklow. 

"  Why,  what,  father  ?  " 

"It's  Thaddeus  !  He's  been  walkin'  in  his  sleep.  That's  what  we 
heard.     And  now  he's  got  the  matches  and  set  the  house  afire  !  " 

He  bounded  out  of  bed ;  he  went  stumbling  over  the  chairs  in 
the  kitchen,  and  clattering  among  the  tins  in  the  pantry,  and  rushing 
blindly  and  wildly  up  the  kitchen  stairs,  only  to  find  the  matches  all 
right,  Taddy  fast  asleep,  and  no  indications  anywhere,  either  to  eye 
or  nostril,  of  anything  burning. 

"  'T  was  all  your  imagination,  mother  !  " 

"My  imagination  !  You  was  jest  as  frightened  as  I  was.  I'm 
sure  I  can't  tell  what  it  was  I  smelt ;  I  can't  smell  it  now.  Did  you 
feel  for  the — you  know  what  ?  " 

Getting  down  on  his  knees,  he  felt  in  the  dark  for  the  bonds. 

"  Good  gracious !  "  he  ejaculated. 

"  What  now  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Ducklow.  "  They  a'n't  gone,  be 
they  ?  " 

"  Sure's  the  world  !  —  No  here  they  be  !  I  didn't  feel  in  the 
right  place." 

"  How  you  did  frighten  me  !  My  heart  almost  hopped  out  of 
my  mouth  !  " 

Daylight  the  next  morning  dissipated  their  doubts,  and  made  both 
feel  that  they  had  been  the  victims  of  unnecessary  and  foolish 
alarms. 

"  I  hope  ye  won't  git  so  worked  up  another  night,"  said  Mr. 
Ducklow." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  if  you  didn't  git  excited,  and  rob  me  of 
my  sleep  jest  as  much  as  I  did  you !  "  retorted  the  indignant  house- 
wife. 

"  You  fust  put  it  into  my  head.  But  never  mind.  Le'  's  have 
breakfast  as  soon  as  ye  can  ;  I'm  in  a  hurry.  The  old  mare  lost  a 
shoe  yisterday  and  I  must  git  her  shod  this  mornin'." 

"  I'll  go  with  you  as  far  as  the  blacksmith  shop,"  said  Mrs.  Duck 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  155 

low,  "and  walk  on  to  the  store  while  you  are  waitin'.  I  want  some 
more  calico  for  my  bedquilt." 

"Wall,  I'll  call  for  ye  when  I  git  ready  to  go  home." 

"  Come,  Taddy  !  Fly  round  !  You'll  have  lots  o'  chores  to  do 
this  mornin' !  " 

Mr.  Ducklow  was  just  leaving  the  blacksmith's  to  drive  to  the 
store  for  his  wife,  when  he  happened  to  cast  his  eyes  in  the  direction 
of  his  home,  and  saw  a  column  of  smoke. 

The  frightful  catastrophe  he  forboded  had  befallen.  Taddy  had 
set  the  house  on  fire.     Not  a  moment  was  lost. 

"  Them  bonds  !  them  bonds  !  "  he  exclaimed  distractedly. 
"They  are  not  insured;  they  are  not  registered;  they'll  be  a  dead 
loss  !     Fire  !     Fire  ! 

"  Git  up  !  git  up  !  fire  !  fire  !  Oh,  them  bonds  !  them  bonds  ! 
Fire  !  Fire  !  "  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  mare's  pace  was  like  the 
gallop  of  an  old  cow. 

"  Git  uj)  !  "  Crack,  crack  went  the  whip.  His  hat  fell  off  but 
was  left  to  its  fate.      "  Fire  !   Fire  !  "  was  still  the  cry. 

Neighbors  looked  out  of  their  windows,  and,  recognizing  Duck- 
low's  wagon  and  old  mare  in  such  an  astonishing  plight,  and  Duck- 
low  himself,  without  his  hat,  rising  from  his  seat,  and  reaching 
forward  in  wild  attitudes,  brandishing  the  reins,  at  the  same  time 
rending  the  azure  with  yells,  thought  he  must  be  insane. 

He  drove  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  looking  beyond,  in  expecta- 
tion of  seeing  his  house  wrapped  in  flames,  discovered  that  the 
smoke  proceeded  from  a  brush-heap  which  his  neighbor  Atkins  was 
burning  in  a  field  near  by. 

At  length  Ducklow  succeeded  in  checking  the  old  mare's  speed, 
and  in  turning  her  about.  It  was  necessary  to  drive  back  for  his 
hat.  By  this  time  he  could  hear  a  chorus  of  shouts,  "  Fire  !  fire  ! 
fire  !  "  over  the  hill.  He  had  aroused  the  neighbors  as  he  passed, 
and  now  they  were  flocking  to  extinguish  the  flames. 

"A  false  alarm  !  a  false  alarm  !  "  said  Ducklow,  looking  marvel- 
ously  sheepish,  as  he  met  them.  "  Nothing  but  Atkins's  brush- 
heap  !  " 


156  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

As  he  approached  the  house,  he  met  Taddy  rushing  wildly  up  the 
street. 

"  Thaddeus  !   Thaddeus  !  where  ye  goin',  Thaddeus  ?  " 

"  Goin'  to  the  fire  !  "  cried  Taddy. 

"  There  isn't  any  fire,  boy  !  " 

"  Yes,  there  is  !  Didn't  ye  hear  'em  ?  They've  been  yellin'  like 
fury." 

"  It's  nothin'  but  Atkins's  brush." 

Taddy  appeared  very  much  disappointed.  "  I  wonder  who  was 
such  a  fool  as  to  yell  fire  jest  for  a  darned  old  brush-heap  !  " 

Ducklow  did  not  inform  him. 

"  I've  got  to  drive  back  for  your  ma.  You  stand  by  the  mare 
while  I  step  in  and  brush  my  hat." 

Instead  of  applying  himself  at  once  to  the  restoration  of  his 
beaver,  he  hastened  to  the  sitting-room  to  see  that  the  bonds  were 
safe. 

"  Heavens  and  'arth  !  "  said  Ducklow. 

The  chair,  which  had  been  carefully  planted  in  the  spot  where 
they  were  concealed,  had  been  removed.  Three  or  four  tacks  had 
been  taken  out,  and  the  carpet  pushed  from  the  wall.  There  was 
straw  scattered  about.  Evidently  Taddy  had  been  interrupted  in 
the  midst  of  his  ransacking  by  the  alarm  of  fire-. 

In  great  trepidation  the  farmer  thrust  in  his  hand  here  and  there, 
and  groped  until  he  found  the  envelope.  Great  was  the  joy  of 
Ducklow.  Great  also  was  the  wrath  of  him,  when  he  turned  and 
discovered  Taddy. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  to  stand  by  the  old  mare  ?  " 

"  She  won't  stir,"  said  Taddy,  shrinking  away  again. 

"  Come  here  !  "  And  Ducklow  grasped  him  by  the  collar. 
"  What  have  you  been  doin'  ?     Look  at  that !  " 

"  'T  wa'n't  me  !  "  —  beginning  to  whimper  and  ram  his  fists  into 
his  eyes. 

"  Don't  tell  me  't  wa'n't  you  !  "  Ducklow  shook  him  till  his  teeth 
chattered.     "  What  was  you  pullin'  up  the  carpet  for  ?  " 

"  Lost  a  marble  !  "  snivelled  Taddy. 


ELOCUTIONAL  V  STUDIES.  1 5 7 

"  Lost  a  marble  !  Ye  didn't  lose  it  under  the  carpet,  did  ye  ? 
Look  at  all  that  straw  pulled  out !  "  —  shaking  him  again. 

"  Didn't  know  but  it  might  'a'  got  under  the  carpet,  marbles  roll 
so,"  explained  Taddy,  as  soon  as  he  could  get  his  breath. 

"Wall,  sir!"  Ducklow  administered  a  resounding  box  on  his 
ear.  "  Don't  you  do  such  a  thing  again,  if  you  lose  a  million 
marbles  !  Go  to  that  mare,  and  don't  you  leave  her  again  till  I 
come."  • 

What  should  he  do  with  the  bonds  ?  The  floor  was  no  place  for 
them,  after  what  had  happened ;  and  he  remembered  too  well  the 
experience  of  yesterday  to  think  for  a  moment  of  carrying  them 
about  his  person. 

A  bright  idea  finally  came.  There  was  a  trunk  in  the  garret, 
filled  with  old  papers  of  all  sorts- — newspapers,  letters,  bills  of  sale, 
children's  writing-books, —  accumulations  of  the  )ast  quarter  of  a 
century.  Neither  fire  nor  burglar  nor  ransacking  youngster  had 
ever  molested  those  ancient  records  during  all  those  five-and-twenty 
years.     A  bright  thought  struck  him. 

"  I'll  slip  the  bonds  down  into  that  wuthless  heap  o'  rubbish, 
where  no  one  'u'd  ever  think  o'  lookin'  for  'em>  and  resk  'em." 

Having  assured  himself  that  Taddy  was  standing  by  the  wagon, 
he  paid  a  hasty  visit  to  the  trunk  in  the  garret,  and  concealed  the 
envelope,  still  bound  in  its  band  of  tape,  and  appearing  as  if  it 
had  not  been  opened,  among  the  papers.  He  then  drove  away, 
giving  Taddy  a  final  charge  to  beware  of  setting  anything  afire. 

He  had  not  gone  far  when  the  thought  occurred  to  him  that  Mrs. 
D.  might  come  home  across  the  lots  while  he  drove  round  the  road 
and  might  sell  the  contents  of  that  trunk  to  a  peddler.  So  back  he 
went.  The  house  was  found  as  he  had  left  it,  and  Taddy  was  occu- 
pied in  making  a  kite  frame. 

Mr.  Ducklow  went  again  to  the  garret,  got  the  envelope,  placed 
it  in  the  breast-  pocket  of  his  overcoat  and  pinned  it  in  with  six 
large,  strong  pins,  and  drove  away. 

Mrs.  Ducklow  made  her  purchase,  and  after  waiting  a  reasonable 
time  for  her  husband,  she  went  to  the  door  just  in  time  to  see  him 
drive  frantically  homeward.     No  time   to  be  lost,  she  followed  on 


1 58  ELOCUTIONAR  V  STUDIES. 

foot  and  across  lots,  reaching  home  after  Mr.  Ducklow 'had  left.  A 
chaise  was  just  going  away  from  the  house.  A  robber,  perhaps. 
Frantically  she  rushed  in,  to  find  the  straw  scattered  about  the 
carpet  and  the  bonds  gone. 

"  The  man  in  the  chaise  !  "  she  exclaimed,  or  rather  made  an 
effort  to  exclaim,  succeeding  only  in  bringing  forth  a  hoarse,  gasp. 
ing  sound.      Fear  dried  up  articulation. 

And  'Faddy?'  He  had  been  murdered,  perhaps  —  or  gagged  and 
carried  away  by  the  man  in  the  chaise. 

Mrs.  Ducklow  flew  hither  and  thither  (to  use  a  favorite  phrase  of 
her  own),  "  like  a  hen  with  her  head  cut  oft,  "  then  rushed  out  of 
the  house,  and  up  the  street,  screaming  after  the  chaise — 

"  Murder  !   murder  !      Stop  thief!   stop  thief!  " 

She  waved  her  hands  aloft  in  the  air  frantically.  If  she  had 
trudged  before,  now  she  trotted,  now  she  cantered ;  but  if  the 
cantering  of  the  old  mare  was  fitly  likened  to  that  of  a  cow,  to  what 
thing,  to  what  manner  of  motion  under  the  sun,  shall  we  liken  the 
cantering  of  Mrs.  Ducklow  ?  It  was  original ;  it  was  unique  ;  it 
was  prodigious.  With  frantically  waving  hands  and  undulating, 
flapping  skirts,  she  seemed  a  species  of  huge,  unwieldy  bird,  attempt- 
ing to  fly.  Then  she  sank  down  into  a  heavy,  dragging  walk, — 
breath  and  strength  all  gone, — no  voice  left  even  to  scream  murder. 
Half  running  again,  half  flying,  she  was  passing  a  house,  when  its 
owner  cried  out :  ;-  What's  the  matter  ?  What's  to  pay,  Mrs.  Duck- 
low ?  " 

"  Robbed,"  she  wheezed  out. 

"  Robbed  ?      How  ?     Who  ?  " 

"  The  chaise  ;  ketch  it." 

A  horse  was  hitched  to  a  wagon  in  the  yard;  Atkins  helped  Mrs. 
Ducklow  to  clamber  in  and  set  off  in  pursuit. 

"  Stop,  you,  sir  !  Stop,  you,  sir  !  "  shrieks  Mrs.  Ducklow,  when 
they  came  up  with  die  chaise. 

"  You've  robbed  my  house  !  You've  took — "  Mrs.  Ducklow  was 
going  on  in  wild  accusation,  when  she  recognized  —  the  benign  face 
..'f  her  minister. 

"  What  do  you  say?     I  have  robbed  you?" 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  159 

"  No,  no,  not  you;  you,  you  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing;  but  have 
you  s,een  our  Thaddeus  ?" 

"  Here  I  be,  ma  Ducklow,"  piped  a  small  voice,  and  Taddy 
peeped  out  of  the  chaise  from  behind  the  broad  back  of  the  minis- 
ter. 

"  Taddy  !   Taddy  !   how  came  the  carpet ' 

"  I  pulled  it  up  huntin'  for  a  marble." 

"And  the  — the  thing  tied  up  in  a  brown  wrapper  ?  " 

"  Pa  Ducklow  took  it." 

"Oh,  dear,  I  never  was  so  beat,  Mr.  Grantley  I  hope  —  excuse 
me — I  didn't  know  what  I  was  about.  Taddy,  you  notty  boy, 
what  did  you  leave  the  house  for  ?  " 

The  minister  smilingly  remarked  that  he  hoped  she  would  find 
mo  robbery  had  been  committed,  and  went  his  way.  Atkins  drove 
back,  and  set  her  and  Taddy  down  at  the  Ducklow  gate. 

Soon  afterward  appeared  Mr.  Ducklow.  "  The  bonds  are  all 
right,"  said  he,  tapping  the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat. 

After  long  consultation  Mrs.  Ducklow  asked  :  "Why  not  put  'em 
in  Josiah's  safe  ?      He's  got  a  safe,  ye  know." 

"  So  he  has  !  We  might  drive  over  there  and  make  a  visit  Mon- 
day, and  ask  him  to  lock  up yes,  we  might  tell  him  and  Laury 

all  about  it,  and  leave  'em  in  their  charge." 

"  So  we  might  !  "  said  Mrs.  Ducklow. 

Laura  was  their  daughter,  and  Josiah  her  husband,  in  whose 
honor  and  sagacity  they  placed  unlimited  confidence.  The  plan 
1  was  resolved  upon  at  once. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday  ;  and  although  Mr.  Ducklow  did  not 
like  to  have  the  bonds  on  his  mind  during  sermon-time,  and  Mrs. 
IDuckiow  "dreaded  dreadfully,"  as  she  said,  "to  look  the  minister 
in  tne  mce,"  they  concluded  that  it  was  best,  on  the  whole,  to  go  to 
meeting,  and  carry  the  bonds.  With  the  envelope  once  more  in 
his  breast-pocket  (stitched  in  this  time  by  Mrs.  Ducklow's  own  hand), 
the  farmer  sat  under  the  droppings  oi  the  sanctuary,  and  stared  up 
at  vne  minister  without  hearing  a  word  of  the  discourse  until  the 
preamer  exclaimed  vehemently,  looking,  as  it  seemed  to  the  fright- 
ened couple,  straight  at  the  Ducklow  pew, — "  What  says  Paul  ?    '  I 


160  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

would  to  God  that  not  only  thou,  but  also  all  that  hear  me  this  day, 
were  both  almost  and  altogether  such  as  I  am,  except  these  bonds,' 
'  except  these  bonds,'  "  he  repeated  striking  the  Bible.  "  Can 
you,  my  hearers,  can  you  say,  with  Paul,  '  Would  that  all  were  as  I 
am,  except  these  bonds  ?  ' 

Early  the  next  morning  Taddy's  adopted  parents  set  out  to  visit 
their  daughter.  It  was  afternoon  when  they  arrived  at  their  jour- 
ney's end.      Laura  received  them  joyfully. 

"  What  do  ye  think  of  Gov'ment  bonds,  Josiah  ?  "  Mr.  Ducklow 
incidentally  inquired  after  supper. 

"  First-rate,"  said  Josiah. 

"  But  how  is  it  about  the  cowpon  bonds  ?  A'n't  they  rather  tick- 
lish property  to  have  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.     Think   how  many  years  you'll  keep  old 
bills  and  documents  and  never  dream  of  losin'  'em." 
.  "  Suppose,"  said  Ducklow,  as  if  the  thought  had  but  just  occurred 
to  him  —  "  suppose   you   put   my  bonds  into  your  safe  ;  I  shall  feel 
easier." 

"  Of  course,"  replied  Josiah.     "  I'll  keep  'em  for  you,  if  you  like." 

Ducklow  was  happy.  Mrs.  Ducklow  was  happy.  She  took  her 
husband's  coat,  and  with  a  pair  of  scissors  cut  the  threads  that 
stitched  the  envelope  to  the  pocket. 

"  Have  you  torn  off  the  May  coupons  ?"  asked  Josiah. 

"No." 

"  Well,  you'd  better.  They'll  be  payable  now  soon ;  and  if  you 
take  them,  you  won't  have  to  touch  the  bonds  again  till  the  interest 
on  the  November  coupons  is  due." 

"  A  good  idea  !  "  said  Ducklow. 

He  took  the  envelope,  untied  the  tape,  and  removed  its  contents 
Suddenly  the  glow  of  comfort,  the  gleam  of  satisfaction,  faded  from 
his  countenance. 

"  Hello  !     What  ye  got  there  ?  "  cried  Josiah. 

"  Why,  father  !   massy  sakes  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ducklow. 

As  for  Ducklow  himself,  he  could  not  utter  a  word ;  but,  dumb 
with  consternation,  he  looked  again  in  the  envelope,  and  opened 
and  turned  inside  out,  and  shook,  with  trembling  hands,  its  astonish- 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  161 

ing  contents.  The  bonds  were  not  there;  they  had  been  stolen,  and 
three  copies  of  the  "Sunday  Visitor"  had  been  inserted  in  their 
place. 

Very  early  on  the  following  morning  a  dismal-faced,  middle-aged 
couple  might  have  been  seen  riding  away  from  Josiah's  house.  It 
was  the  Ducklows  returning  home,  after  their  fruitless,  their  worse 
than  fiuitless  journey. 

"  Oh,  dear  !  "  said  Mrs.  D.,  with  a  groan,  "  I  wish  the  pesky  cow- 
pon  bonds  had  never  been  invented  !  "  A  sentiment  which  her 
husband  most  fully  concurred  in. 

The  house  of  the  Ducklows  was  filled  with  gloom  until  Taddy, 
having  first  been  fully  assured  that  he  would  not  receive  the  pun- 
ishment deserved,  made  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and  told  the  whole 
story.  Impelled  by  a  curiosity  which  had  well  nigh  devoured 
that  small  boy,  he  found  opportunity  to  investigate  the  contents 
of  the  package  when  it  had  lain  under  the  carpet,  and  thinking  the 
I  b  nds  would  make  a  better  material  for  covering  his  kite  than  com- 
mon paper,  concluded  to  use  them  for  that  purpose.  This  he  im- 
parted to  his  astonished  foster-parents,  after  a  solemn  promise  had 
been  given  that  he  should  not  be  punished  if  he  would  only  tell 
the  whole  truth  in  the  matter. 

"  Did  you  cover  your  kite  ?  " 

"  No.  When  I  found  out  you  cared  so  much  about  'em,  I 
dars'n't ;   I  was  afraid  you'd  see  'em." 

"  Then  what  did  you  do  with  'em  ?  " 

"  When  you  was  away,  Dick  come  over;  and  I  —  I  sold  'em  to 
him." 

11  Sold  'em  to  Dick  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sold  them  for  six  marbles,  and  one  was  a  bull's-eye,  and 
one  agate,  and  two  alleys.  Then,  Avhen  you  come  home  and  made 
such  a  fuss,  I  wanted  'em  ag'in.  But  he  wouldn't  give  me  back  but 
four,  and  I  wa'n't  going  to  agree  to  no  such  nonsense  as  that." 

"  But  the  bonds  !  did  he  destroy  'em  ?  " 

"  Likely  he'd  destroy  'em,  after  he'd  paid  six  marbles  for  'em  J 
He  wanted  'em  to  cover  his  kite  with." 


1 62  ELOCUTIONAR Y  STUDIES. 

"  Cover  his  —  oh  !  then  he's  made  a  kite  of  'em  ?  "  said  Duck- 
low. 

"  No,  I  got  'em  back,  here  they  are.  I  promised  Dick  that  he 
might  play  on  my  new  drum  when  you  git  it  for  me.  You  said  you 
wouldn't  lick  me  ?  and  —  say,  when  can  I  have  the  drum,  pa  Duck- 
low  ?  " 

The  owner  of  the  bonds  was  too  glad  to  get  them  at  any  cost) 
and  he  said  good-naturedly,  "  You  don't  deserve  no  drum  after  cut- 
tin'  up  so  and  makin'  me  and  yer  ma  so  much  trouble,  but  I'll  get 
it  fur  you  when  I  go  to  town  —  cause  I  said  I  would."  And  pa 
Ducklow  kept  his  word. 


A  SEA-SIDE  FLIRTATION. 


Samuel  Minturn  Peck. 


(Good  for  an  encore.) 


WITH  sorrow  in  her  eyes  of  blue, 
With  trembling  hands  she  slowly  penned  it— 
The  little  parting  billet  doux 

That  conscience  told  her  now  should  end  it. 
Those  tete-a-tete  along  the  shore, 

Those  gypsyings  with  fern-filled  basket, 
Must  join  the  dear  delights  of  yore 
And  only  live  in  memory's  casket. 

There  never  was  a  heart  like  Jack's : 

He  told  his  passion  in  his  glances. 
She  sealed  her  note  with  scented  wax, 

But  could  not  drown  her  dismal  fancies. 
When  he  should  read  his  suit  denied, 

So  long  the  theme  of  idle  gazers, 
She  pictured  him  a  suicide, 

And  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  razors ! 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  163 

At  last  she  slept  —  but  not  till  dawn 

Had  blossomed  through  the  ocean  vapors. 
Jack  conned  her  missive  with  a  yawn 

When  he  had  read  the  morning  papers. 
He  gave  his  beard  a  languid  twirl, 

And  murmured  as  he  sat  a-smoking : 
"  Tear-stained  —  By  Jove  !  — poor  little  girl  — 

I  thought  she  knew  that  I  was  joking  !  " 


BARNYARD   MELODIES. 


Fred  Emerson  Brooks 

From  "Voice  Culture  and  Elocution,"  by  permission  of  the  author,  Prof. 
William  T.  Ross. 

DELIGHTFUL  change  from  the  town's  abode, 
Is  a  charming  drive  on  a  country  road ; 
From  the  stifled  air  of  the  city's  street 
To  the  perfumed  breath  of  the  daisies  sweet ! 
You  halt  your  team  at  the  farmer's  gate, 
He  comes  to  open  it ;  while  you  wait 
Old   Rover  comes  bounding  down  the  hill 
In  spite  of  his  master's  : —  "  Rover,  be  still !  " — 
His  barking  shakes  his  thick,  shaggy  coat, 
While  these  notes  roll  from  his  deep-toned  throat : 
Bow -wow -wow -wow  / 
Bow -wow -wow -wow  ! 

On  either  side  fat  hens  take  leg, 
While  others  announce  a  new-laid  egg: 

Cut-cut-cut cut-da-cut  / 

Cut-cut-cut cut-da-cut  / 

The  rooster,  shrill  spokesman  for  the  brood. 
Says,  one-third  polite  and  two-thirds  rude : 

Tut  Cock  a -doodle-do  ! 

And  who  the  deuce  are  you  ? 


i64  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

The  ducks  and  drakes  use  the  self-same  quack, 
They  're  just  alike  save  the  curl  at  the  back ; 
For  "  divers  "'  reasons  they  go  to  the  pond, 
For  "  sun-dry  "  reasons  they  strut  around, 
And  waddle  off  like  sailors  a-spreeing, 
And  talk  like  doctors  when  disagreeing : 

Quack-quack-quack-quack  ! 

Quack-qitack-quack-quack  I 

The  turkey  gobbler  comes  charging  'round 
With  ruffled  temper  and  wings  aground ; 
For  fear  he  might  his  foe  overtake 
He  gives  alarm,  then  puts  on  the  brake : 

Plip  gobble-obble-obble  I 

Plip-gobble-obble-obble  / 

The  hog  in  the  trough  with  dirty  feet  — 
The  more  you  give  him  the  more  he  '11  eat; 
This  gourmand  finds  nothing  to  desire 
When  half  asleep  in  the  half-dried  mire  : 

R-r-r-rough-ff  !  r-r-r  rough-ff  ! 

R-r-r-rough-ff  !  r-r-r-rough-ff  ! 

The  sow  is  teaching  her  litter  of  shoats 
To  speak  hog  latin  with  guttural  throats  : 
Ugh-ee  f  ugh-ee  /  ugh-ee!  ugh-ee  / 
Ugh-ee  !  ugh-ee  !  ugh-ee  /  ugh-ee  / 

The  calf  and  lamb  at  distance  dispute 
The  right  of  bin  with  horned  brute ; 
Their  blat  and  bleat  the  hard-headed  scorns 
Where  right  or  wrong's  a  question  of  horns* 

Bah  /  bah  / .  Beh-eh-eh-eh-eh  ! 

Bah  !  bah  / Beh-eh-eh-eh-eh  ! 

The  bare-foot  boy  from  the  tender  rows 
Of  corn  is  driving  the  "  pesky  "  crows ; 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  165 

He  stubs  his  toe,  and  they  mock  his  pain; 
He  throws  a  stone,  and  they  're  off  again  : 

Caw  /  caw  !  caw  !  caw  ! 

Caw  /  caw  /  caw  1  caw  ! 

From  out  the  meadow  the  lowing  kine, 

Treading  the  buttercups,  come  in  line ; 

Come  with  their  soft  tread  through  the  grass; 

Answer  the  call  of  the  farmer's  lass  : 

Cd-boss  !  co1 -boss  /  cd-boss  I Moo  1 

Co' -boss  !  cd-boss  /  cd-boss  / Moo  ! 

They  stand  there  meekly  chewing  their  cud, 
Whacking  their  sides  with  a  sudden  thud 
To  battle  the  flies;   the  swinging  tail 
Meanwhile  drops  down  in  the  frothing  pail : 

So-boss  /  so-boss  /  so-so-so  ! 

Stand  still,  Brindle  !  heist  !  so-so  / 

The  king  of  the  herd,  imprisoned  a-field, 
Is  hooking  the  bars  quite  loth  to  yield ; 
He  paws  up  the  earth  with  muscles  tense, 
And  then  pacing  down  the  long  line  fence 
On  neighboring  chief  —  with  haughty  mein 
And  challenge  hoarse  —  he  vents  his  spleen 

Mow-ow-ush  !  mow-ow-asJi  I 

Mow-00  !  mow -00  !  ow-ush  i 

The  mare  knee-deep  in  the  clover  bed 
Caresses  her  nursing  thoroughbred ; 
The  well-fed  oxen  in  stancheons,  meek  ; 
The  plowboy  grooming  his  horses,  sleek ; 
They  whisk  their  tails  and  nip  at  his  back 
While  down  the  curry-comb  comes  a-whack  !  — 

Whoa,  Dan  !  you  rascal,  stand  still ! 

Cxh  /  cxh  /  cxh  .'     Gd  up  thar,  Bill! 


166  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

The  barn  well  filled  with  the  bursting  sheaves  j 
The  swallows  twittering  'neath  the  eaves 
Their  song  of  plenty ;  the  farmer's  heart 
And  barn  are  full  —  while  he  walks  apart 
And  chants  his  thankfulness  as  he  goes 
By  whistling  the  only  tune  he  knows: 

" Yankee  Doodle"  [to  be  whistled .] 


TWO   BELLS. 


Rev.  J.  W.  Sanborn. 


Very  effective   if  one  can  give  bell  notes,   similar  to  Poe's  "  Bells  "  and 

"  Creeds  of  the  Bells." 


L 


1ST  !  the  clamor  of  the  bells, 
Sweeping  over  dales  and  dells ; 


Penetrating  everywhere, — 
Souls,  and  homes,  and  all  the  air. 

One,  a  deep-toned,  mellow  bell, 
Eager  its  glad  news  to  tell. 

The  next  two  lines  are  given  in  imitation  of  bell-tones,  with  swelling 
voice  upon  " pealing -."] 

"  Peace  on  earth,  to  men  good  will," 
Pealing,  pealing,  pealing  still. 

Full  of  hope  its  golden  tones ; 

Stirring  thoughts  of  crowns  and  thrones, 

Palms,  and  harps,  and  robes  of  white, 
In  the  realm  that  knows  no  night ; 

Wherr,  He  reigns  to  whom  we  bow. 
'Tis  His  bell  peals,  "  Now  !  now  !  now  !  " 
[Ring  out  gravely,  with  full  voice.  J 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  167 

Thus  God's  bell  its  warning  note 
Sounds  from  out  its  golden  throat. 

But  another  —  brazen  bell  — 
Beats  against  this  golden  swell, 

Ringing  out,   "  No  trouble  borrow; 
Just  as  well  to-morrow,  'morrow." 

[Imitate  bells,  higher  pitch,  quicker  time.] 

And  the  devil's  brazen  bell 
Holds  the  masses  in  its  spell : 

*'  Feast  thyself  to-day  !     To-morrow 
Will  be  time  enough  for  sorrow  !  " 

|  Gravi  ly.  ] 
"  But  to-morrow'll  never  be  !  " 
Rings  the  bell  of  Deity; 

"  Past  and  future  are  God's  own ; 
Yours  is  now,  and  now  alone." 

List  !   the  clamor  of  the  bells  ! 
Sweeping  over  dales  and  dells; 

"  Now  ! "  "  To-morrow  !  "     "  Now  !""  To-morrow  I  " 

I  2 

"  Listen  now  !  "     "Wb  trouble  borrow  /  " 
\_Gravely  i,  joyously  2.] 

Lnters  Death  !      With  sturdy  stroke^ 
T*:e  to-morrow  bell  he  broke  ! 

While  God's  bell,  in  minor  strain, 
Sadly  echoed  forth  again  : 


1 68  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

"  Hadst  thou  harkened  to  my  warning 
Thou  hadst  now  shared  in  the  dawning 
f  Clear  and  low.\ 

"  Glory  of  Celestial  morn  ! 
But  alas  !   thy  day  is  gone  !  " 
[  Very  low.  \ 


DERBY    DAY. —(After  Owen  Meredith.) 


Fanny   Fos'iek  Clark. 


The  following  is  one  of  a  series  of  very  clever  imitations  of  modern  poets  which 
was  written  not  long  since  by  Mrs.  Clark. 


STRANGE  that  an  innocent,  girlish  way, 
A  pouting  demand,  and  a  sunrise  face 
Should  send  such  a  cynical  mind  astray 
To  such  a  scene  as  the  Derby  race. 

Another  man  would  be  singing  of  love 
And  the  dear  delights  of  a  soft  caress ; 

I'm  seeing,  the  heads  of  the  crowd  above, 
The  heliotrope  sheen  of  a  gauzy  dress, 

And  opal  eyes  'neath  a  fringe  of  hair 
As  soft  and  light  as  the  morning  mist; 

The  jealous  glove,  that,  despite  its  care, 
Leaves  an  ivory  arm  by  the  shadows  kist. 

Dainty  and  dear  the  patrician  head, 

And  the  matchless  jewel  that  glows  in  her  ear: 

My  heart  stood  still,  and  my  soul  it  said : 
"  My  queen  and  my  darling,  she  knows  I  am  here  " 

For,  oh,  'neath  the  fall  of  the  Mechlin  lace, 
And  the  yellow  roses  that  lay  on  her  heart, 

'Cross  the  carriage  that  intervenes  I  can  trace, 
I  swear,  how  her  pulses  tremble  and  start. 


EL  O C  UTIONAR  Y  STUDIES.  1 69 

I  left  her,  a  bare  three  months  ago, 

'Neath  the  chandelier,  at  the  palace  ball; 
In  that  clear,  sweet  voice  she  whispered  low : 

"  Don't  fear,  1  am  true,  I'll  wait."     After  all 

The  hurry  and  fret  and  the  half  despair, 

They  have  poisoned  my  brief  Continental  trip  j 

She's  true,  with  her  opal  eyes  so  rare, 

And  the  faint,  sweet  coral  stain  of  her  lip. 

"  I'll  go  to  her  now  ;   she  will  understand  • 

With  a  look,  and  all  will  be  well,"  I  said; 
But  venders  of  cakes  came  by,  and  a  band, 

And  a  tumbling  boy  who  would  stand  on  his  head. 

And  carriages  crowded  right  up  in  the  way, 
And  loud  there  came  from  a  booth  hard  by, 

Where  strolling  actors  were  giving  a  play, 
The  beat  of  a  drum  and  a  mountebank's  cry. 

With  a  muttered,  impatient  word  I  tried 

To  stem  the  current,  when,  scented  and  fine, 

And  horribly  well-dressed,  stood  at  my  side 
Lord  John,  as  usual,  flushed  with  wine. 

"  I  say,  old  fellow,  I  see  you  stare," 

He  said,  "  like  the  rest,  at  yon  pretty  toy 
With  the  opal  eyes  and  the  soft,  fringed  hair; 

You  know  she's  just  married  to  old  Mountjoy." 

"  Liar  !  "  I  sprang  at  my  Lord  John's  throat, 

A  dozen  friends  came  crowding  around 
And  said  he  had  spoke  the  truth,  and  took  note 

That  7  cowered  and  shook  like  a  craven  hound. 

Twas  fear  of  that  tipsy  young  lord  they  hint 

To  this  day,  I  believe  I  am  written  down 
As  a  coward  somewhere  in  London  print; 

Bah  !  should  I  show  my  heart  to  the  town  ? 


i7o  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

Should  I  show  that  I  died  just  there  and  then  ? 

And  Derby  day,  with  its  crowd  and  noise, 
Its  mountebank  plays,  and  women  and  men, 

Its  dust  and  din  and  tumbling  boys, 

Is  the  very  last  scene  in  my  former  life  ? 

Why,  'twas  but  a  ghost,  to-day  in  the  Row 
When  passed  by  the  Duke  of  Mountjoy  and  his  wife, 

Who  smiled  and  saluted  me  blandly  and  low. 

Sweet  opal  eyes  'neath  the  fringe  of  hair, 
Your  glow  is  calm  in  that  placid  face  ; 

But,  oh,  you  send  men's  souls  to "  Where  ?  " 

'Twould  scare  you,  Duchess,  to  name  the  place. 


DANDELION   AND  CLOVER-TOP. 


May  Riley  Smith. 


A  pretty  costume  dialogue  for  six  little  girls.  It  must  be  given  during  the  day, 
as  the  dandeloin  goes  to  sleep  too  early  to  be  made  available  for  an  evening  per- 
formance. 

Dandelion  wears  a  dress  of  gauzy  white,  with  a  broad  hat  turned 
up  on  one  side ;  dress  and  hat  are  trimmed  with  dandelion  leaves 
and  flowers. 

Clover-top  wears  a  hat  and  dress  like  that  of  Dandelion,  trimmed 
with  red  clover  leaves  and  flowers 

Violet  wears  a  white  dress  and  a  poke  bonnet,  which  may  be 
covered  with  blue  violets,  bunches  of  violets  upon  her  dress  and  a 
basket  of  the  flowers  upon  her  arm. 

Hollyhock  wears  the  flowers  like  rosettes  upon  her  white  dress. 
They  should  be  of  the  double  kind,  of  various  colors.  She  wears  a 
pretty  peasant  waist  of  green  silk  and  a  jaunty  little  shirred  silk  hat 
turned  up  in  front.  Her  hair  is  in  long  curls  or  waves.  She  stands 
upon  the  left  side,  nearer  the  front  than   Dandelion  and  Clover-top. 

Buttercup  wears  her  hair  flowing  looselv  and  decked  with  a  wreath 
of  buttercups ;  dress  of  tulle  trimmed  with  festoons  of  buttercups. 
She  is  seen  upon  the  right,  opposite  Hollyhock. 


ELOCUTIONAR Y  STUDIES.  1 7 1 

The  sixth  is  dressed  in  white  with  any  flowers  she  chooses  to  wear. 
She  is  hidden  by  a  screen  as  she  reads.  She  must  speak  very  clearly 
md  distinctly. 

\From  behind  the  screen.] 

DANDELION  and  Clover-top  growing  close  together, 
Bobbed  their  bright  young  heads  and  talked,  in  the  new  spring 
weather. 

fust  across  the  little  path  in  a  grassy  hollow, 
Buttercup  was  coquetting  with  a  noisy  swallow. 

[Dandelion,  pointing  scornfully  toward  Buttercup. ] 
'  Do  you  know,"  said  Dandelion,  growing  stiff"  and  sullen, 
'  Buttercup,  who  used  to  rank  with  Milkweed  and  Mullen, 

'  Goes  to  parties,  matinees,  and  all  such  queer  places? 
And  is  quite  the  rage,  they  say,  with  her  silly  graces." 

I  Clover.] 
"  Well,"  laughed  Clover,  merrily,  "  this  we  will  agree  on — 
That  she  wears  her  honors  well,  for  such  a  plebeian ! 

"  I  should  surely  cross  my  knees,  spill  my  dew  at  dinner— 
When  it  comes  to  etiquette,  I'm  a  dreadful  sinner ! 

"As  for  you,  you  sleep  so  much,  they  say — without  malice — 
1  hat  you  steal  the  opium  from  the  poppy's  chalice." 

\DandeIion,  pointing  toward  Hollyhock.] 
I  There  is  Madam  Hollyhock,"  still  pursued  the  other, 

,f<  Used  to  be  on  friendly  terms  with  my  great-grandmother. 

- 

I  Then  she  wore  the  plainest  skirt,  with  a  simple  tunic, 

Now  she  looks  like  some  grand  dame  just  arrived  from  Munich. 

I  Then  she  stood  beside  the  wall,  or  the  lattice,  may  be, 
Now  she  rings  the  front  door-bell,  just  like  any  lady." 


172  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

[Clover.] 
"  Why,  you  must  be  jealous,  dear  !  "  Clover  said,  serenely, 
"  For  her  colors  are  superb,  and  her  manners  queenly. 

"  Her  quaint  bodice  of  pale  green  fits  her  to  perfection, 
And  a  ruffle  more  or  less  is  no  great  objection." 

[  Violet  crosses  the  back  of  the  stage  and  passes  over  to  the  side  of 
Buttercup.     From  behind  the  screen. ~\ 
Just  then  Violet  passed  by  in  her  soft  blue  bonnet; 
Dandelion's  face  grew  dark,  with  the  frown  upon  it. 

[Dandelion.] 
"  See  !  "  she  cried,  "  the  whole  bright  world  greets  her  as  she  passes^ 
While  our  lives  are  hidden  here  in  the  weeds  and  grasses. 

"  How  I  hate  her  artless  ways!  hate  her  queer  poke  bonnet ! 
Hate  her  modest  drooping  face,  with  the  soft  smile  on  it ! 

"  '  Modest  Violet,'  indeed  !  when  her  vainest  glory 
Is  the  meek  humility  granted  her  in  story  ! 

"  Tell  me,  does  God  love  her  best  ?     Count  her  blue  gown  fairer  ? 
Is  her  perfume  sweet  to  Him  ?    or  her  graces  rarer  ?  " 

[Clover.] 
"  Hush  !  "  said  Clover,  sweetly  grave,  "  God  is  God  foreve*  ! 
Doubt  whatever  else  you  will,  but  His  goodness  never. 

"  Violet  gives  lavishly  of  her  wealth  of  sweetness, 

And  the  world  requites  the  debt  from  its  own  completeness. 

"Do  not  wrong  the  God  above,  and  our  brown  earth-mother, 
Why  not  like  your  own  life  best,  sighing  for  no  other  ? 

"  I'd  not  change  my  happy  lot  with  my  wild-bee  lover 
For  the  world  of  violets  :  No,  not  I !  "    laughed  Clover. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  173 

\From  behind  the  screen.  J 
"  Humph  !  "  that  little  cynic  said,  with  her  bright  eyes  closing, 
And  the  rest  I  never  heard,  for  she  fell  a-dozing. 

The  girl  behind  the  screen  comes  out.  A  semi-circle  is  formed 
of  the  six,  who  join  hands,  dance  toward  the  audience,  back  and 
forth,  to  music,  three  or  four  times,  when  curtain  falls. 


THE  PATH   OF  THE  CYCLONE. 


Meta  E.  B.  Thorne. 


r  HE  faithful  Don  !  "  the  farmer  called,  that  sultry  summer  morn, 
13     As  he  turned  away  and  left  the  boy  at  work  among  the  corn. 
"  Dotty,  my  dear,  you  will  be  sure  to  take  the  best  of  care 
Of  grandma,"  the  mother  said,  "  this  trust  with  you  I  share." 

I 
Away  across  the  prairies  sped  the  farmer's  handsome  bays, 

While  higher  mounted  up  the  sun  and  hotter  grew  its  rays; 

But  scarce  a  word  the  parents  spoke,  their  eager  thoughts  would 

roam 

j  With  many  a  tender,  earnest  prayer  for  the  cherished  ones  at  home. 

Like  emerald  banners  on  the  air  the  corn  its  broad  leaves  flung, 
And  every  tiny  murmuring  breeze  each  silken  tassel  swung, 
And  seemed  to  sing,  "  Be  faithful,  boy  !  "  to  Donald's  listening  ear  ; 
"  Be  faithful !  "  piped  the  meadow  larks  down  by  the  streamlet  clear. 

He  read  it  on  the  smiling  face  of  upland  meadow,  too, 
And  penned  in  lines  of  living  light  on  heaven's  arching  blue, 
As  busily  he  plied  his  hoe  his  heart  exulting  sang, 
And  louder  than  the  bobolink's  his  merry  whistle  rang. 

O'ershaded  by  its  clambering  vines,  and  set  'mid  beds  of  bloom, 
The  farmer's  pleasant  homestead  stood,  and  in  an  upper  room, 
On  every  thoughtful  care  intent,  busily  to  and  fro, 
A  happy  little  maiden  went,  while  humming  soft  and  low. 


174  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

Now  here  she  closed  a  blind  to  shut  away  the  sun's  bright  glare ; 

To  let  each  stray,  cool  zephyr  in  she  raised  a  window  there ; 

And    then  a  cooling    draught   she   brought    that  "  grandma  dear '' 

might  drink  ; 
Then  in  a  vase  close  by  she  placed  some  roses  white  and  pink. 

And  when  the  morning  had  gone  by,  the  noontide  meal  she  laid ; 
Then  all  was  cleared  away,  herself  in  coolest  dress  arrayed, 
Seated  once  more  by  grandma's  side  she  bathed  the  fevered  brow, 
And  gently  plied  the  fan,  and  sang  in  accents  sweet  and  low. 

But  by  the  languorous  heat  oppressed  the  tune  dropped  drowsily, 
Then  died  away,  and  Dotty  slept,  her  head  on  grandma's  knee  ■ 
And  grandma,  too,  with  gentle  hand  upon  the  drooping  head, 
Was  dreaming  of  the  past,  once  more  among  the  cherished  dead. 

Meantime,  among  the  corn,  the  boy,  though  weary,  plied  his  hoe  j 
But  fervid  was  the  afternoon,  and  on  his  heated  brow 
Stood  beads  of  sweat  that  slowly  fell  like  heavy  drops  of  rain ; 
Still  he  worked  on    "  Faithful  I'll  be  in  weariness  or  in  pain." 

Then  suddenly  he  heard  a  sound  borne  on  the  heavy  air 
Of  late  so  still — an  ominous  roar,  and  then  an  angry  glare 
Lit  up  the  western  sky.     He  cried,  "  Here  comes  a  hurricane  ! 
I  must  haste  home  to  make  all  snug  before  the  wind  and  rain." 

Up  through  the  rows  of  corn,  and  then  beneath  the  orchard  trees, 
Then  up  the  garden  swift  he  sped,  but  swifter  came  the  breeze. 
A  fierce  and  mighty  blast,  he  saw  it  sweeping  o'er  the  plain ; 
Before  it  fell  the  trees,  as  falls  before  the  scythe  the  grain. 

With  hands  outstretched  and  close  shut  eyes  he  sank  upon  his  knees, 
"  Lord,  thou  alone  canst  save,"  he  cried.     "  O  spare  us,  if  you  please  ! 
O  let  the  storm  go  by  and  save  Dotty  and  grandma  dear, 
Mother  and  father  once  again  to  meet.      O  Jesus,  hear  !  " 

He  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  around — the  elm  tree  by  the  gate 
Uprooted  lay  upon  the  ground,  and  like  a  furrow  straight 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  175 

A  wide  swath  through  the  meadow  lay,  and  o'er  the  field  of  corn, 
And  through  the  belt  of  woods  beyond,  so  green  and  strong  that 
morn. 

The  wind  had  died  away,  and  only  now,  "  like  sound  of  hoofs," 
The  heavy  rain  beat  down  the  flowers  and  trampled  on  the  roofs, 
And  on  his  brow  all  bare.     He  rose  and  as  one  in  a  dream 
Entered  the  house,  closing  the  doors  and  windows  from  the  stream 

Of  water  falling  from  the  clouds.     Seeking  his  grandma's  room 
He  marveled  much  to  find  them  still  asleep  amid  the  gloom 
That  had  descended  with  the  storm.     Yet  wondered  they  still  more 
To  see  the  havoc  that  was  wrought  so  near  their  very  door. 

How  anxiously  the  farmer  sought  his  home  across  the  plain, 
That  night  as  warily  he  shunned  the  footprints  of  the  rain. 
"  'Tis  awful,  wife,  the  ruin  wrought  !  "  in  low,  deep  tones  he  said, 
"  The  track  leads  straight  for  home  ;  pray  God  they  may  not  all  be 
dead." 

And  thus,  'mid  fears  and  hopes  and  prayers,  their  home  at  last  they 

near ; 
The  prone  elm  bars  their  way ;  but  what  is  this  they  see  ?     Right 

here 
As  turned  by  some  resistless  power  the  mighty  pathway  bends, 
•Sweeping  away  across  the  fields.     A  thankful  prayer  ascends. 

Now  all  the  loved  ones  meet  again,  and  each  his  story  tells; 

Then  such  a  psalm  rings  out,  such  praise  from  those  hearts'  deepest 

wells  ! 
And  oft  they  since  have  told  the  tale,  with  mingled  awe  and  fear, 
How  God  had  turned  the  hurricane,  answering  a  young  lad's  prayer. 


A  PIN. 


Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox. 


0 


H,  I  know  a  certain  woman  who  is  reckoned  with  the  good, 
But  she  fills  me  with  more  terror  than  a  raging  lion  could. 


i76  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

The  little  chills  run  up  and  down  my  spine  whene'er  we  meet, 
Though  she  seems  a  gentle  creature,  and  she's  very  trim  and  neat. 

And  she  has  a  thousand  virtues,  and  not  one  acknowledged  sin, 
But  she  is  the  sort  of  person  you  could  liken  to  a  pin. 
And  she  pricks  you,  and  she  sticks  you  in  a  way  that  can't  be  said  — 
When  you  ask  for  what  has  hurt  you,  why,  you  cannot  find  the  head. 

But  she  fills  you  with  discomfort  and  exasperating  pain  — 

If  anybody  asks  you  why,  you  really  can't  explain. 

A  pin  is  such  a  tiny  thing  —  of  that  there  is  no  doubt  — 

\  et  when  it's  sticking  in  your  flesh,  you're  wretched  till  it's  out. 

She  is  wonderfully  observing  —  when  she  meets  a  pretty  girl 
She  is  always  sure  to  tell  her  if  her  "  bang  "  is  out  of  curl. 
And  she  is  so  sympathetic ;  to  her  friend,  who's  much  admired, 
She  is  often  heard  remarking  :    "  Dear,  you  look  so  worn  and  tired  ! " 

And  she  is  a  careful  critic ;   for  on  yesterday  she  eyed 

The  new  dress  I  was  airing  with  a  woman's  natural  pride, 

And  she  said  :   '•  Oh,  how  becoming !  "  and  then  softly  added,  "  It 

Is  really  a  misfortune  that  the  basque  is  such  a  fit." 

Then  she  said  :  "  If  you  had  heard  me  yestereve,  I'm  sure,  my  friend, 
You  would  say  I  am  a  champion  who  knows  how  to  defend." 
And  she  left  me  with  the  feeling  —  most  unpleasant,  I  aver  — 
That  the  whole  world  would  despise  me  if  it  had  not  been  for  her. 

Whenever  I  encounter  her,  in  such  a  nameless  way, 

She  gives  me  the  impression  I  am  at  my  worst  that  day, 

And  the  hat  that  was  imported  (and  that  cost  me  half  a  sonnet), 

With  just  one  glance  from  her  round  eyes  becomes  a  Bowery  bonnet, 

She  is  always  bright  and  smiling,  sharp  and  shining  for  a  thrust  — 
Use  does  not  seem  to  blunt  her  point,  nor  does  she  gather  rust  — 
Oh !  I  wish  some  hapless  specimen  of  mankind  would  begin 
To  tidy  up  the  world  for  me,  by  picking  up  this  pin. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  177 

THE  SALE  OF  THE  PIG.. 


Jessie  P.  O'Donnell. 


OCH,  Biddy  !   'tis  bad  news  I'm  bringin', 
Wid  sorrow  my  heart's  fit  to  break; 
The  docther  is  wantin'  his  money, 
The  rint  will  be  due  in  a  wake. 
But  worse  than  all  this,  Biddy,  darlint, 

A  cruel  and  heart-rinding  blow  ! 
"  What's  that  what  has  hurt  me  ?  "  ye're  askin' 
Shure  !   Biddy,  the  pig  must  go. 

For  Kitty,  ye  know,  has  the  measles, 

And  Tim,  the  poor  colleen's,  so  bad 
The  docther  has  said  if  we  kape  him 

We  must  have  fresh  air  fur  the  lad. 
The  babby,  too,  she  has  been  ailin', 

And,  faith  !   her' recovery's  so  slow, 
A  change  must  be  made  fur  the  wee  wan, 

So,  Biddy,  the  pig  must  go. 

All  day  I've  been  thinkin'  of,  Biddy, 

The  counthry  so  grand  and  so  swate, 
And  in  my  ould  head  I've  been  plannin' 

Arrangements  quite  trim  and  complate. 
You,  darlint,  must  take  all  the  childhurs, — 

New  life  upon  them  'twell  bestow  — 
And  go  from  the  city  to  mither's, 

And,  Biddy,  the  pig  must  go. 

A  snug,  tidy  cottage  has  mither, 

As  purty  as  iver  ye  see, 
There's  only  wan  room  besides  two,  dear, 

But  that  is  enough  space  fur  ye. 


178  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

My'mither  has  two  little  gardens, 
Whtre  praties  and  posies  both  grow, 

And  glad  will  she  welcome  the  childhurs, 
But  piggy  to  death  must  go. 

I  hate,  dear,  to  part  wid  the  crathur  — 

Perhaps  he's  a  throifle  too  blunt, — 
But  oft  I  have  killed  me  wid  laughin' 

A-listenin'  to  his  plazed  grunt. 
In  faith  !    he's  the  winnin'est  baste,  woife, 

Amongst  all  the  pigs  that  I  know, 
But  to  the  starved  knife  of  the  butcher, 

Dear  Biddy,  our  pig  must  go. 

He'll  fetch  a  great  pile  of  good  money, 

He's  growin'  now  fat  and  so  big, 
Ye'll  feel  when  away  fast  ye  travel, 

Ye're  ridin'  away  on  the  pig. 
Don't  let  the  young  childhurs  forget,  dear. 

What  to  this  dear  crathur  they  owe, 
Since  off  to  the  blessed  grand  counthry 

'Tis  piggy  allows  'em  to  go. 

We'll  lave  the  nate  hut  by  the  railroad, 

Wid  pig-pen  as  good  as  the  bist, 
For  I  can  get  wurrk  in  the  city, 

And  board  there  as  chape  as  the  rist. 
Whisht,  Biddy  !   ye  plaze  to  spake  aisy ; 

Ye  say  ye're  not  lavin'  me  so 
That  I  shall  not  sthruggle  on  lonely 

While  off  on  the  pig  ye  go  ? 

Faith,  darlint !   mesilf  'tis  that's  longin' 
To  see  ye  again  loike  a  rose, 

Your  eyes,  wunst  the  brag  of  ould  Ireland, 
Again  their  ould  sparkles  disclose. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  179 

Whisht,  Biddy,  have  done  vvid  your  talkin  ! 

Indade  !   I  would  have  me  woife  know 
The  hilth  of  die  childhurs  is  precious, 

So  you  and  the  pig  must  go  ! 


THE   PARSON'S  CRADLE. 


Anna  Randall-Diehl. 


FT  AD  we  not  best  buy  a  cradle,  for  the  baby,  Mary  dear? 

1  1      He's  too  heavy  and  too  restless  for  your  slender  arms.  1  fear  ; 
Quite  the  tyrant  is  he  getting  in  his  active  growing  life," 
Said  the  Reverend  Thomas  Murry,  to  his  blue-eyed  little  wife. 
"  Yes,  but,  Thomas,  who    will   rock   it   through   the   long  hours  of 

the  night  ? 
Something  with  perpetual  motion,  only,  could  relieve  us  quite," 
Laughing,  said  the  pretty  mother,  lifting  baby  in  her  arms, 
Pretty,  crowing,  fair-haired  baby,  with  his  many  dimpled  charms. 

Later,  Reverend  Thomas  Murry  set  out  on  his  quest  intent, 

And   through   many  crowded  ware-rooms  were   his   eager  footsteps 

bent. 
Vain,  in  truth,  was  all  the  searching  for  a  cradle  like,  the  one 
That  had  rocked  the  baker's  dozen,  in  his  old  ancestral  home, 
Of  sound  limbed  and  rosy  children,  the  old  cradle,  deep  and  wide, 
Swinging  on  its  creaking  rockers,  mother  sitting  at  the  side; 
Found  he  but  the  newest-fangled,  hung  on  uprights  at  the  ends, 
Willow  baskets  trimmed  with  ribbons  in  the  way  that  fashion   sends. 

Did  he  choose  a  simple  rocker  ?     No  ;  the  newest  patent  thing, 
With  a  clock-work-like  attachment,  by  itself,  alone,  to  swing, 
Soon  was  purchased  and  delivered ;   downy  pillows  put  in  place, 
Baby  ditto ;  cradle  wound  up,  started  duly  on  its  race. 


i So  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.       * 

"  There,  my  darling,  is  a  treasure,  trust  the  baby  to  its  care, 
Take  your  leisure  hour  for  practice,  reading,  calling  anywhere. 
O,  you  cunning  little  rascal !      He's  more  handsome  every  day ; 
Wife,  he's  surely  growing  like  me,  more  and  more,  in  every  way. 

True  he  has  your  very  dimple,  smile,  and  eyes  of  azure  blue — 
Why,  it  cannot  be  you'r  sighing  !      What  is  the   matter,  dear,  with 

you  ?  " 
"  It's  a  very  pretty  cradle," — sadness  mingled  with  her  smile, 
"  And  convenient,  too,  it  must  be  ;  " —  What  could  cloud  her  face 

the  while  ? 
All  went  well  until  one  morning,  just  before  the  dawn  was  grey, 
When  the  Reverend  Thomas  Murry  dreamed  it  was  the  judgment 

day; 
Dreamed  that  bells  in  all  the  steeples,  and  the  clocks  in  every  tower, 
Mingled  wild  with  Gabriel's  trumpet,  as  of  doom  they  clanged  the' 

hour, 

Woke  to  hear  a  whirring,  whizzing,  burring,  crashing  sound  in  air, 
Woke  to  see  the  cradle  flying,  with  its  precious  burden  there, 
Round  and  round  with  fearful  motion,  kept  by  centripetal  in  place ; 
"  Stop  it,  stop  it !  "  screamed  the  mother;  still  went  on  the  dreadful 

pace. 
Sprang  the  father,  but  most  timely  to  receive  a  blow  full  sore, 
And  the  gallant  Thomas  Murry  measured  length  upon  the  floor ; 
In  an  instant  he  had  risen,  quickly  had  regained  his  feet, 
Just  in  time  to  see  the  baby,  by  centrifugal  most  fleet, 

Flung  out !   Heavens,  the  peril !  flying  straight  through  line  of  space, 

As  if  shot  from  loaded  cannon,  to  the  marble  mantel-place. 

Caught  and  saved  !      The  mother  fainted  — while  upon  the  morning 

air 
Sounded  out  in  glad  thanksgiving,  full  and  strong,  the  father's  prayer. 
Breakfast  over,  axe  was  plying,  many  blows  it  did  not  need 
Quite  to  sever  the  "  attachment."     Now,  then,  Mary,  we  are  freed 
From  all  clock-work  to  our  cradle."     "  O,  it  is  much  better  so," 
Said  the  mother  placing  baby  on  the  pillows  white  as  snow. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  181 

Back  and  forth  she  swung  the  cradle,  then  it  was  her  husband  knew. 
iWhy  when  all  seemed  going  gaily,  that  portentous  sigh  she  drew; 
Knew  that  no  machinery,  no  invention  man-made  patent  e'er  so  good 
To  take  place  of  loving  mother,  to  rock  baby,  ever  could. 
Quiet  reigned,  as  evening  shadows  o'er  the  ministerial  home, 
iBrooded  dove  like,  and  was  broken  but  by  Mary's  crooning  tone, 
jAs  she  sang  in  soothing  numbers,  swaying  cradle  to  and  fro, 
'The  old  hymn  loved  best  by  babies,  sung  by  mothers  long  ago  : 

"  Hush,  my  dear,  lie  still  and  slumber, 
Holy  angels  guard  thy  bed ; 
Heavenly  blessings  without  number, 
Cover  thy  defenceless  head." 


ROVER  IN  CHURCH. 


James  Buckham. 


'^T^WAS  a  Sunday  morning  in  early  May, 

1       A  beautiful,  sunny,  quiet  day, 
And  all  the  village,  old  and  young, 
Had  trooped  to  church  when  the  church  bell  runj 
The  windows  were  open,  and  breezes  sweet 
Fluttered  the  hymn-books  from  seat  to  seat. 
Even  the  birds,  in  the  pale-leaved  birch 
Sang  as  softly  as  if  in  church  ! 

Right  in  the  midst  of  the  minister's  prayer 

There  came  a  knock  at  the  door.    "  Who's  there. 

I  wonder  ?  "  the  gray-haired  sexton  thought, 

As  nis  careful  ear  the  tapping  caught. 

Rap-rap,  rap-rap — a  louder  sound, 

The  boys  on  the  back  seats  turned  around. 

What  could  it  mean  ?   for  never  before 

Had  any  one  knocked  at  the  old  church  door. 


1 8 2  ELOC UTIONAR Y  STUDIES. 

Again  the  tapping,  and  now  so  loud, 

The  minister  paused  (though  his  head  was  bowed) 

Rappety-rap  !     This  will  never  do  ; 

The  girls  are  peeping,  and  laughing  too  ! 

So  the  sexton  tripped  o'er  the  creaking  floor, 

Lifted  the  latch,  and  opened  the  door. 

In  there  trotted  a  big  black  dog, 

As  big  as  a  bear  !     With  a  solemn  jog 

Right  up  the  center  aisle  he  pattered  ; 

People  might  stare,  it  little  mattered. 

Straight  he  went  to  a  little  maid, 

Who  blushed  and  hid,  as  though  afraid, 

And  there  sat  down,  as  if  to  say  : 

"  I'm  sorry  that  I  was  late  to-day ; 

But  better  late  than  never,  you  know, 

Besides,  I  waited  an  hour  or  so, 

And  couldn't  gee  them  to  open  the  door, 

Till  I  wagged  my  tail  and  bumped  the  floor. 

Now,  little  mistress,  I'm  going  to  stay, 

And  hear  what  the  minister  has  to  say." 

The  poor  little  girl  hid  her  face,  and  cried ! 
But  the  big  dog  nestled  close  to  her  side, 
And  kissed  her,  dog  fashion,  tenderly, 
Wondering  what  the  matter  could  be  ! 
The  dog  being  large  (and  the  sexton  small), 
He  sat  through  the  sermon,  and  heard  it  all, 
As  solemn  and  wise  as  any  one  there, 
With  a  very  dignified,  scholarly  air  ! 
And  instead  of  scolding,  the  minister  said, 
As  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  sweet  child's  head, 
After  the  service,  "  I  never  knew 
Two  better  list'ners  than  Rover  and  you!  w 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  183 


THE  COAL   DIGGER. 


Jessie  F.  O'Donnell. 


IN  a  stifling  pit  a  miner  worked, 
Beneath  the  light  of  the  golden  day, 
Where  the  noisome  gas  snd  fire-damp  lurked, 
Like  stealthy  beasts,  in  his  narrow  way. 

Like  a  grimy  Cyclops  the  miner  seenjed, 
One  round  eye  throwing  an  evil  light, 

For  the  lamp  on  his  forehead  redly  gleamed 
In  the  shadowed  depths  of  the  pit's  midnight. 

He  drove  his  pick  in  the  mountain  side, 

To  bring  black  jewels  from  the  settings  dim  \ 

The  coal  is  the  diamond  unpurified, 
A  truth  which  never  had  come  to  him. 

The  wide-loving  Father  has  taught  in  the  coal 
And  flash  of  the  gem,  in  substance  the  same, 

The  elements  God-like  dwell  in  each  soul, 
Though  one  has  glory,  and  one  has  shame. 

The  miner  but  thought  in  his  vague,  dull  way, 
Of  his  fading  wife  and  his  children  three, 

And  if  there  were  bread  for  another  day, 
Since  a  soulless  clod  of  the  earth  was  he. 

Of  the  giant  trees  he  never  thought, 

Which  once  to  the  sun  waved  tufted  heads, 

Where  the  wondrous  change  had  since  been  wrought 
That  formed  the  massive,  rich  coal-beds. 

He  did  not  know  that  once  just  there, 

Great  forests  of  ferns  began  to  grow, 
And  spread  their  fronds  to  the  tropic  air, 

For  liis  brain  was  dull  and  his  fancy  slow. 


184  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

'Neath  his  echoing  blows  the  coal  broke  thro', 
And  burst  from  the  solid,  glistening  wall ; 

But  he  simply  remembered  the  rent  was  due, 

And  would  swallow  the  most  of  his  earnings  small. 

A  loaded  car  down  the  dark  crept  past, 

Like  a  long,  black  hearse  for  a  moment  seen, 
But  never  a  glance  the  miner  cast, 


For  what  was  he  but  a  mere  machine  ? 

And  patiently  dull  the  man  toiled  on 

For  home  and  children,  and  fading  wife, 

Till  his  limbs  were  cramped,  and  his  strength  was  gone. 
But  he  hardly  dreamed  of  a  fuller  life. 

One  day  the  gas  and  the  fire-damp  grim, 
Wild,  hungry  beasts  that  had  waited  long, 

Leaped  quick  at  his  throat  and  throttled  him 
With  the  horrible  might  of  their  hatred  strong. 

And  people  read  in  a  careless  way, 

When  his  stupid,  poor  heart  strings  lay  chilled: 
"  A  slight  explosion  occurred  to-day, 

But  only  a  digger  of  coal  was  killed." 

But  I  think  in  the  spirit  world  he  will  learn 
The  beautiful  things  that  escaped  him  here, 

For  the  heart  of  the  Father  must  surely  yearn 
O'er  one  condemned  to  an  earth-life  drear. 

His  brain  will  be  filled,  and  his  soul  grow  broad, 
In  the  marvelous  light  of  Heaven's  day  ; 

It  could  never  be  meant  by  a  loving  God 
That  he  should  be  always  a  lump  of  clay. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  185 

THE   EXECUTION   OF   LOUIS   XVI. 


From  "  Marie  Antoinette, "  as  played  by  Ristori. 


\The  morning  of  January  21,  1793.  Chamber  of  the  Queen  in 
;  the  Temple.  In  the  back  a  fire-place  with  a  mirror,  and  clock  with  a- 
pendulum.  A  door  on  the  left  in  the  coi'ner  leading  to  the  chamber 
of  Jlladame  Elizabeth.  An  etitrance  door  and  window,  also  on  the 
left.  On  the  right  a  large  screen  concealing  the  bed  of  Maria  An- 
toinette. Before  it  the  bed  of  the  Dauphin.  A  small  table,  on  which 
is  standing  a  light  about  going  out.  The  fire  hi  the  fire-place  half 
t  extinguished.  Two  large  easy-chairs,  and  some  other  chairs.  The 
Dauphin  is  asleep  on  his  bed,  covered  with  a  coverlet.  Madame 
Royale  is  reclining  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  in  a  large  arm-chair,  on  the 
side  of  which  her  head  is  resting.  She  is  covered  with  a  cloak,  and 
she  also  is  asleep,  although  less  tranquilly  than  her  brothier.  Marie 
Antoinette  and  Madame  Elizabeth  are  seated  at  the  head  of  the  bed, 
the  former  holding  the  head  of  the  latter  upo?i  her  breast. ~\ 


ELIZABETH.  My  sister,  you  are  faint,  exhausted !  you  can 
bear  no  more  !  I  have  told  you  so  !  Alas  !  you  are  trembling 
not  only  with  grief,  but  with  cold.  Your  limbs  are  rigid  !  ^Cover- 
ing her  with  her  own  mantle, .] 

Antoinette.  And  you,  sister ! 

Eliz.   Oh  !  I  — 

Ant.  Are  you  not  cold  ? 

Eliz.  A  little,  truly.  It  is  always  so  when  you  do  not  sleep  at 
night  —  what  shall  we  do  ?  I  am  sorry  for  you  !  and  now  there  is 
no  way  of  warming  ourselves  —  the  last  of  our  fire  is  going  out !  — 
we  have  no  more  wood,  and  until  eight  o'clock  there  is  no  means 
even  of  asking  for  any  — 

Ant.   [Raising  her  head.]     Eight  o'clock  ! 

Eliz.  If  you  had  lain  down  a  little,  as  I  have  begged  you  so 
much  to  do  — 

Ant.  Lie  down  in  such  a  night  as  this,  while  he .'  —  and  you, 
dear,  would  have  been  able  to  do  it  ?  would  have  wished  it  ? 


r 86  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

Eliz.  But  i  am  stronger  and  younger ;  I  am  not  an  invalid. 
[Rising.]  Wait,  at  least,  until  I  bring  your  counterpane  from  the 
bed,  and  your  cloak,  and  cover  you  a  little. 

Ant.  Do  you  not  see  them  ?  [Points  to  the  counterpane,  which, 
besides  his  quilt,  covers  the  Dauphin,  and  the  cloak  that  protects 
Madame  Royale.] 

Eliz.   Poor  mother  ! — Well,  take  mine. 

Ant.  It  is  for  you.  But  I  thank  you.  [Rising.]  Oh  !  if  it 
was  only  a  little  cold.  [Covers  the  Dauphin  and  Madam  Royale 
carefully.}  It  is  enough  if  they  do  not  suffer.  I  do  not  feel  it;  at 
least,  I  forget  it  entirely.  [  Walking  rapidly  and  shaking  herself,  to 
allow  the  blood  to  circulate.}  Besides,  I  am  hot;  my  brain  is  hot  — 
it  burns  —  feel  ! 

Eliz.  [After  passing  her  hand  over  her  forehead.}  O  God  ! 
this  is  fever. 

Ant.  No,  no.  [Slowly.]  But  what  o'clock  is  it?  Before  mid- 
night I  counted  the  hours,  but  afterward  fear  seized  me  ;  and  while 
you  had  retired  for  a  little  in  your  chamber  I  arrested  the  pendulum 
which  once  announced  to  me  the  hour  when  we  were  accustomed  to 
meet  all  together  in  the  dining-hall.  I  now  —  oh!  if  I  had  been 
able  thus  to  check  the  inexorable  march  of  time. 

Eliz.  It  cannot  be  far  away  from  seven  o'clock. 

Ant.  Seven  o'clock  ? 

Eliz.   Does  not  the  dying  wick  of  the  candle  seem  to  say  so  ? 

Ant.    Dying  ! 

Eliz.  And  then,  have  you  not  your  beautiful  watch  suspended 
to  the  bed  behind  the  scene  ? 

Ant.   I  did  not  wind  it  up  last  evening. 

Eliz.  Wait !  [Goes  to  the  window.]  Yes  ;  the  night  is  beginning 
to  pass  away,  the  morning  is  dark,  cold  and  cloudy,  but  a  glimmer 
of  light  begins  to  extend  over  that  funeral  drapery.  The  dawn  of 
the  2 1 st  of  January  has  come. 

Ant.  The  day  has  come. 

Eliz.  Does  it  not  seem  to  you,  sister,  that  it  would  be  well  to 
awaken  our  children  ? 

Ant.   Awake  them  !  when  nature  has  so  much  pity  for  childhood 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  187 

';  as  to  allow  them  to  sleep  even  over  a  bier  —  while  sleep  like  a  good 
angel  closes  their  eyes  with  her  merciful  wings  ?     Ah  !   no  !   no  ! 

Eliz.  But  if  they  should  come  to  bid  us  descend  to  him  ?  Before 
eight  o'clock,  he  said. 

Ant.  Which  means  that  at  eight — although  before  that  fatal  hour. 
:  no  one  will  come  to  lead  us  to  the  miserable  condemned. 

Eliz.  What  do  you  say  ? 

Ant.  No  one.  Believe  me.  Oh  !  he  knew  it,  sister ;  he  knew 
that  we  should  never  see  him  more,  and  he  wished  to  leave  us  the 
melancholy  hope  of  delay,  that  we  might  survive  this  night.  But  1 
comprehend  it  well.  I,  who  was  surprised,  convulsively  clinging  to 
the  door  of  the  oratorio  as  if  I  could  have  forced  my  soul  to  pene- 
trate it  —  the  truth  was  revealed  to  me.  In  his  words,  in  his  looks, 
in  all  his  movements  was  the  agony  of  the  final  separation.  Ah  ! 
sister.  [ Taking  the  medallion .]  He  did  not  wait  until  the  moment 
of  his  departure  —  for  the  scaffold  —  to  place  upon  my  breast  this 
precious  memorial ;  yesterday  evening  he  gave  it  to  me,  and  behold 
what  remains  to  me  of  him  !  [Kisses  it,  and  places  it  jealously  upon 
her  breast.] 

Eliz.  Still,  no  !  I  can  not  renounce  the  hope  of  a  last  embrace. 
[Looking  at  the  window, ,]  The  day  has  begun  ;  it  is  after  seven, 
[Putting  out  the  light.']  Oh  !  they  will  come.  [She  hears  the  key 
turn  in  the  entrance-door.]     Ah  !     They  come  !     They  come  ! 

[Enter  Simon.] 

Ant.   I"  With  a  mixture  of  terror  and  eager  curiosity .]     Speak  ! 

Sim.  Until  midnight  he  remained  shut  up  with  his  confessor.  It 
must  be  acknowledged  that  he  had  a  good  many  sins  on  his  con- 
science ;  but,  no  matter  !  With  four  words  and  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
the  Catholic  priest  sent  him  to  bed  tranquil — as  a  Bourbon.  He 
slept  placidly  until  morning;  then  he  called  his  faithful  servant,  and 
to  finish  with  the  King,  he  had  himself  well  dressed  and  combed  to 
hear  mass  and  take  the  communion.  After  that  General  Santerre 
asked  whether  he  would  like  to  have  his  family  descend.  No,  abso- 
lutely no,  he  answered.  I  promised  them,  but  now  I  no  longer 
belong  to  e.irth.  I  have  taken  the  sacrament,  and  am  ready  to 
depart.     In  fact,  when  I  left  him  he  was  about  parting.     [A  sudden 


1 88  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

beating  of  drums  is  heard,  which  makes  the  family  tremble  as  they 
stand  clinging  together  in  a  mournful  group.']  And  there  is  the  signal 
of  his  departure.  Viva  the  nation  !  [Goes  out  rapidly,  waving  his 
hat,  and  closing  the  door.] 

Ant.  [In  agony.]  He  could  have  given  us  a  last  joy,  and 
would  not!  He  has  gone  without  a  last  salutation!  [The  first 
alarm  of  the  drums  ceases,  and  a  funeral  march  is  heard,  which 
lasts  for  some  moments,  becoming  always  more  distant.  While  these 
doleful  sounds,  that  vibrate  mournfully  upon  the  hearts  of  the  prison- 
ers, continue,  they  remain  clasped  in  each  others  arms,  as  if  they  were 
one  body.]  Let  us  pray.  God  of  goodness  !  God  !  —  [Sobs  inter- 
rupt their  voices,  and  they  cannot  continue.] 

,  Mad.  [  Who  is  kneeling  in  the  centre  of  the  group,  makes  an  effort, 
and,  closing  her  eyes  and  joining  her  hands,  continues  thus  the  prayer 
of  the  mother.]  God  of  goodness  !  God  of  mercy  !  Assist  in  this 
last  moment  the  son  of  St.  Louis,  who  has  drunk  the  cup  of  gall, 
who  has  carried  your  cross,  and  who  now  ascends  your  Calvary  with 
pardon  on  his  lips.  [A  moment  of  silence,  interrupted  with  sobs.] 
Angels  of  the  Lord,  surround  him,  sustain  him,  receive  the  innocent 
blood  to  preserve  it  for  the  Eternal!  [As  above.]  Mother  of  sor 
row  !  Look  with  merciful  eyes  upon  the  desolate  widow  of  the  best 
of  kings,  succor  her,  do  not  let  her  sink  beneath  this  last  blow ;  in- 
spire us  with  words  of  peace,  of  comfort,  of  resignation  for  her. 

Ant.  Ah !  you  do  not  forget  the  last  words  of  your  father. 
[Raising  and  embracing  her  tenderly.]  You  are  my  angel !  f  With- 
out uttering  another  word,  they  withdraw  slowly  to  the  bed,  upon 
which  they  sink  in  various  attitudes,  abandoned  to  their  sorrow,  which 
is  silent  and  profound.  After  a  moment  of  silence  they  hear  the  door 
open.      Then  they  start  up,  looking  at  it  with  terror.  ] 

[Enter  Malesherbes.] 

Ant.   Malesherbes!     [All  surround  him  respectfully.] 

Eliz.   Whence  do  you  come,  faithful  friend,  at  this  moment. 

Mal.  To  fulfill  a  melancholy,  a  supreme  duty,  my  dear.  Yester- 
day evening  I  promised  the  unhappy  one  that  I  would  return  to  him 
this  morning,  before  eighty  to  receive  his  last  words,  the  messages, 
the  salutations  with  which  he  would  have  intrusted  me  for  his  family. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  189 

Ant.  All !     You  saw  him  at  the  last  ? 

Mal.    At  last  I  succeeded. 

Eliz.  O  signer !  speak. 

Mad.  You  are,  then,  the  spirit  of  our  father. 

Dau.   We  listen. 

Mal.  \Taking  a  paper  and  presenting  it  to  Marie  Antoinette :] 
This  is  for  you,  madam.      It  is  his  will. 

Ant.   [Receiving  it  and  kissing  it.]     Ah  !   for  all ! 

Eliz.  And  then  ? 

Mal.  And  then- — these  were  his  words:  Say  to  my  poor  wife,  to 
my  dear  children,  to  my  good  sister,  that  they  must  pardon  me  for 
not  having  them  call  this  morning.  But  it  is  because  I  do  not  feel 
the  strength  to  endure  the  agony  of  a  second  separation.  Tell  them 
that  I  need  all  my  strength  to  die  like  a  Christian  king.  Ah  !  Let 
them  not  believe  that  I  have  wronged  them  ;  and  may  they  remem- 
ber me  and  love  me  always.  And  if  you,  my  dear  Malesherbes,  will 
be  near  the  platform  where  I  hope  to  triumph  in  death,  receive  the 
\    last  words  of  Louis  XVI,  and  bear  them  to  his  desolate  family. 

Ant.   And  what  were  they  ? 

Mad.  We  listen  religiously. 

Mal.  I  die  innocent.  I  pardon  the  authors  of  my  death,  and 
pray  God  that  my  blood  may  never  fall  again  upon  France.  He 
would  have  spoken  still,  but  at  a  signal  from  Santerre  the  drums  be- 
I  gan  to  beat.  Louis  XVI,  faithful  to  his  promise,  in  an  instant  had 
triumphed  over  death!  Ah!  do  not  weep.  He  is  much  more 
happy  than  we. 


THE   ERL-KONIG. 


Arranged  by  Ma  belle  B.   Biggart 


[Eirst  young  lady  reads. .] 

THE  fame  of  Franz  Schubert  is  now  an  established  fact,  notwith- 
standing that  it  has  taken  nearly  half  a  century  to  infuse  the 
idea  into  public  minds  that  he  was  something  more  than  a  song- 
writer,— as  if  his  acknowledged  supremacy  in  the  world  of  song  were 


190  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

not  enough  to  make  him  famous.  It  was  only  after  the  patient  and 
successful  researches  of  Robert  Schumann  that  even  his  own  coun- 
trymen began  to  inquire  into  the  real  merits  of  the  composer  of  the 
"  P2rl-Konig,"  the  "  Lazerus,"  and  the  Grand  Symphony  in  C. 

One  of  the  last  assertions  of  the  dying  Beethoven  was  that  "  a 
divine  spark  glows  in  Schubert."  The  latter,  during  his  life-time, 
never  enjoyed  a  very  wide  reputation.  At  home,  in  Vienna,  he  was 
esteemed  as  li  a  very  able  song-writer,"  and  was,  furthermore,  looked 
upon  as  an  eccentric  individual,  whose  only  redeeming  quality  was 
his  homeliness,  and  whose  highest  moral  characteristics  were  a  certain 
honesty  and  cleverness  of  disposition. 

Of  Schubert's  vocal  pieces  there  may_  be  mentioned,  first  the 
"  Erl-Konig,"  set  to  Gothe's  famous  poem.  It  was  composed  one 
winter  afternoon  at  his  father's  house.  It  was  completed  amid 
intense  excitement.  On  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  Schubert 
carried  it  to  the  hall,  where  it  was  rehearsed.  Subsequently,  after 
undergoing  several  minor  changes,  Vogl  claimed  the  ballad  as  pecu- 
liarly suited  to  his  own  powers,  and  continued  to  sing  it  in  concert 
until  his  death.  The  "Erl-Konig"  has  now  become  the  property 
of  the  whole  world. 

Schubert  had  long  desired  to  get  hold  of  some  one  capable  of 
rightly  interpreting  his  songs.  Hitherto  he  had  hummed  them  him- 
self; but  the  desire  seized  him  to  secure  Vogl,  who,  at  the  time,  was 
the  court  opera  singer,  having  been  raised  to  the  position  as  early 
as  1794.  Indeed,  it  seemed  of  the  utmost  importance  —  to  Schu- 
bert at  least  —  that  they  should  meet. 

One  evening,  the  singer,  whose  voice  was  a  rich,  powerful  bari- 
tone, came  to  Schubert's  apartment.  The  composer  had  been  fore- 
warned of  his  intended  visit,  but,  somehow  or  other,  had  carelessly 
forgotten  the  appointed  hour.  When  the  visitors  arrived,  Schubert 
was  nowhere  to  be  found ;  and  several  minutes  elapsed  before  he 
made  his  appearance.  Elbowing  right  and  left,  and  all  the  while 
muttering  out  something  in  his  stammering  speech,  he  managed  to 
open  the  door.  The  three  went  in.  and  found  the  room  pitch  dark. 
The  host  lighted  a  lam])  as  hurriedly  as  possible ;  while  Vogl,  not  at 
all    disconcerted  by  the   oddity  that  marked   their  first  interview, 


EL  0 C UTIONAR  Y  STUDIES.  1 9 1 

j  ^advanced  towards  the  table,  and,  taking  up  a  sheet  of  music-paper, 

■j  began  to  hum  the  song  "Augenlied."  Was  he  pleased  with  it  ?  No, 
nor  did  the  others  which  he  tried  appear  to  suit  him  any  better. 

Before  they  parted  for  the  night,  he  tapped  Schubert  upon  the 

shoulder,  and  exclaimed  :   "  You  have  got  some  of  the  real  stuff  in 

you,  but  not  enough  of  the  actor  or  of  the  charlatan.     You  lavish 

wastefully  your  good  thoughts,  instead  of  allowing  them  to  develop." 

To  Schubert  this  appeared  the  most  unkind  cut  that  he  had  ever 

j  received ;  still  he  was  not  angry,  but  tried  hard  to  smother  the  sen- 
sitive emotions  that  welled  up  in  his  soul.  Neither  was  Vogl  more 
than  half  in  earnest  in  what  he  had  spoken.     A  wider  accmaintance 

j  induced  him  to  cherish  very  favorable  opinions,  and  he  soon  ascer- 

,1  tained  the  real  value  of  the  songs. 

j       Vogl  sang  the  "  Erl-Konig  "  at  a  concert  in  the  Karnthner  Thea- 

jl  tre.  The  ballad  was  encored  with  immense  applause.  Thenceforth 
the  song  had  a  rapid  sale ;  and  the  publishers,  who  had  not  so  much 
as  issued  the  piece  at  their  own  expense,  began  to  hold  it  up  as 
theirs  in  the  best  of  humor,  and  wondered  why,  in  their  miserly 
stupidity,  they  had  not  been  able  to  detect  "  rising  genius  "  sooner. 
As  was  just,  Schubert,  too,  was  in  the  best  of  spirits,  inasmuch  as 
'he  found  himself  the  recipient  of  a  few  precious  ducats,  with  the 
prospect  of  securing  still  more,  both  public  and  private  ;  and 
already  he  began  to  be  known  abroad  as  one  of  the  greatest  of 
song-writers. 

Schubert  profited  largely  by  his  intercourse  with  Vogl,  and  found 
him  a  true  friend  and  adviser  in  his  musical  studies.  The  latter 
could  always  claim  the  honor  of  having  introduced  the  young  man 
to  the  artistic  world.  After  Schubert's  death,  the  old  court-singer, 
already  in  his  sixty-third  year,  continued  to  sing  the  songs  of  his 
former  protege,  in  the  private  circles  of  Vienna. 

Although  perfect  strangers  to  one  another,  Schubert  had  always 
exhibited  a  natural  fondness  for  the  poetical  effusions  of  Goethe. 
It  was  the  ardent  wish  of  the  composer  to  glorify  in  sound  the 
beautiful  words  of  the  poet.  He  had  caught  the  inspiration  and 
the  necessary  feeling.  Who  will  deny  that  the  best  melodies  that 
Schubert  ever  wrote  are  wedded  to  the  delineations  of  his  fond  idol  ? 


1 92  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  two  great  men  never  met.  The 
doors  of  the  poet's  house  were  always  open  ;  and  from  the  heart  of 
the  master  came  the  word,  "  Welcome."  But  Schubert  was  modest 
and  shy.  He  dared  not  face  him  whose  trials  and  triumphs  were 
everywhere  known.  He  had  not  the  courage,  even  when  holding 
in  his  hands  the  manuscript  of  the  "  Erl-Konig,"  to  approach  the 
author  of  the  words,  and  greet  him  in  friendship  as  a  fellow-artist. 

In  the  month  of  April,  1830,  the  famous  Schroder-Devrient,  on 
her  way  to  Paris,  made  a  brief  stay  at  Weimar,  and  was  there  intro- 
duced to  Goethe.  After  dinner,  she  was  asked  to  sing  for  the 
amusement  of  the  company.  Among  other  selections,  she  rendered 
the  "  Erl-Konig,"  and  infused  into  it  a  goodly  amount  of  her  dra- 
matic power  and  sweetness.  The  effect  was  grand  in  the  extreme ; 
and  Goethe  (now  in  the  last  years  of  his  life),  with  tears  rolling  down 
his  eyelids,  rushed  towards  the  brilliant  singer,  kissed  her  forehead 
and  exclaimed : 

"  Thanks,  a  thousand  thanks  !  for  this  grand  artistic  performance. 
I  once  heard  this  composition  before,  but  I  did  not  like  it  then  ;  now 
your  execution  has  made  for  me  the  picture  complete."  0 

Poor  Schubert !  With  what  unbounded  delight  would  he  not  have 
hailed  this  glorious  utterance  from  the  lips  of  the  greatest  of  German 
poets. 

The  "Erl-Konig"  is  a  mischievous  and  malignant  being  in  the 
mythology  of  the  ancient  Germans.  This  piece  is  the  opening  of 
"Die  Fischerin,"  one  of  Goethe's  operas.  At  an  advanced  hour 
of  a  quiet,  dark  evening,  the  fisherman's  daughter,  impatiently 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  her  father  and  her  lover,  is  made  to  sing  this 
song  for  a  pastime. 

The  poem  will  now  be  recited  in  German,  by  Miss . 

[Second  young  lady  recites.] 

SBer  reitet  fo  foftt  butch  ftacfit  urtb  SBinb? 
@§  tft  ber  SSatet  rrttt  feinem  JHitb; 
(£r  fiat  ben  ^rtafien  roofil  in  bent  2ltm, 
@r  fajjt  ifin,  fidjer,  er  fiiilt  ifin  roarm. 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  193 

5[Rem  ©ofm,  toa§  Birgft  bu  fo  Bang  bein  ®efidjt? — 
(Stel&ft,  $ater,  bu  ben  (Mtonig  nid)t  ? 
SDe\.  $tlenfonig  rnit  ^ron'  unb  ©d)tt>eif  ? 
$ftem  ©oljn,  e§  ift  ein  91eBeIftreif. — 

„®u  lieBeg  $inb,  lomm,  gel)  mit  mit ! 
„©ar  fd)one  ©niele  \pieV  id)  mit  bit ; 
„9ftand)  Bunte  33Iumen  finb  an  bem  ©tranb, 
„9)teine  Gutter  tjat  mand)  giilben  ©etoanb." — 

9Mn  3)ater,  ntein  SSater,  unb  ^oxeft  bu  nidjt, 
2Ba§  (Menfbnig  mir  leife  berfprtdjt  %  — 
©ei  rut)ig,  BleiBe  rutjig,  mein  JHnb ; 
$n  biirren  Slattern  faufelt  ber  SBinb. — 

„2Bittft,  feiner  $naBe,  bu  mit  mir  ger)n  ? 
aJleine  £od)ter  f  often  bid)  marten  fd)bn; 
„sIFceine  Xod)ter  fiifjren  ben  nacrjttictjen  fRet^tt 
f,Unb  miegen  unb  tan^en  unb  fingen  bid)  ein."— 

'UTtein  35ater,  mein  33ater,  unb  fietjft  bu  nid)t  bort 
(Mfonig§  £od)ter  am  biiftern  Ort?  — 
9Jtein  ©ofm,  mein  ©oljn,  id)  fet)'  e§  genau : 
@§  fd)einen  bie  alien  3Beiben  fo  grau. — 

„$d)  lieBe  bid),  mid)  reigt  beine  fdjime  ©eftatt; 
„llnb  Bift  bu  nid)t  millig,  fo  Braud)'  id)  ©ematt." — 
SKein  25ater,  mein  $ater,  jetjt  fafjt  er  mid)  an ! 
(£rtfonig  Bjat  mir  ein  Seib§  gettjau !  — 

S)em  SSater  graufef*,  er  reitet  gefd)minb, 
6r  TEjatt  in  SIrmen  ba§  adj^enbe  .n*inb, 
(Srreidjt  ben  t^of  mit  'JDIitrje  unb  9tottj; 
$n  feinen  airmen  ba§  $inb  war  tobt. 

[In  case  the  reader  cannot  read  the  poem  in  the  original,  she  may  read  the 
English  version.  A  good  effect  may  be  made  also  by  reading  it  both  in  German 
and  in  English,  E/t.her  by  the  second  young  lady  or  by  a  third.  The  playing  of 
Schubert's  music  by  another  young  lady,  would  heighten  the  effect  still  more. 
The  translation  is  on  the  next  page.] 


*94  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

THE    ERL-KING. TRANSLATION. 

Who  rideth  so  late  through  the  night-wind  wild  ? 
It  is  the  father  with  his  child. 
He  has  the  little  one  well  in  his  arm  ; 
He  holds  him  safe,  and  he  folds  him  warm. 

My  son,  why  hidest  thy  face  so  shy  ?— 
Seest  thou  not,  father,  the  Erl-King  nigh  ? 

The  Erlen  King,  with  train  and  crown  ? 

It  is  a  wreath  of  mist,  my  son. 

"  Come,  lovely  boy,  come,  go  with  me ; 
Such  merry  plays  I  will  play  with  thee  ; 
Many  a  bright  flower  grows  on  the  strand, 
And  my  mother  has  many  a  gay  garment  at  hand." 

My  father,  my  father,  and  dost  thou  not  hear 
What  the  Erl-King  whispers  in  my  ear  ?— 
Be  quiet,  my  darling,  be  quiet,  my  child  ; 
Through  withered  leaves  the  wind  howls  wild. 

"  Come,  lovely  boy,  wilt  thou  go  with  me  ? 
My  daughters  fair  shall  wait  on  thee  ; 
My  daughters  their  nightly  revels  keep  ; 
They'll  sing,  and  they'll  dance,  and  they'll  rock  thee  to  sleep." 

My  father,  my  father,  and  seest  thou  not 

The  Erl-King's  daughters  in  yon  dim  spot  ?— 

My  son,  my  son,  I  see  and  I  know 

'Tis  the  old  gray  willow  that  shimmers  so. 

"  I  love  thee  ;  thy  beauty  has  ravished  my  sense ; 
And,  willing  or  not,  I  will  carry  thee  hence."— 
O  father,  the  Erl-King  now  puts  forth  his  arm  ! 
O  father,  the  Erl-King  has  done  me  harm  ! 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  195 

The  father  shudders ;   he  hurries  on  ; 
And  faster  he  holds  his  moaning  son  ; 
He  reaches  his  home  with  fear  and  dread, 
And,  lo !  in  his  arms  the  child  was  dead. 


MME.   EEF. 


MONSIEUR  Adam  was  all  alone  in  ze  garden.  He  have  plenty 
for  eat  and  plenty  for  drink  and  ees  very  comfortable,  but  he 
'ave  not  much  clothes. 

Von  evening  he  lie  down  on  ze  ground  for  take  a  nap.  In  ze 
morning  he  wake  viz  pain  in  his  side. 

He  say  :  "  Oh,  mon  Dieu,  vat  ees  ze  mattair,  eh.  ?  Ah  !  le  Diable, 
ees  von  rib  gone  !  I  shall  take  un  promenade  in  ze  open  air.  I 
shall  feel  bettaire." 

He  promenade.  Mme.  Eef  she  approach.  It  is  ze  first  lady  zat 
M.  Adam  have  ever  met;  it  ees  Mme.  Eef's  first  entree  to  society. 
They  approach  each  other  and  both  are  very  much  attract.  M. 
Adam,  he  say  :  "  Madame,  shall  I  'ave  ze  plaisair  for  promenade  viz 
you  ?  " 

Mme.  Eef  respond,  *'  I  shall  be  most  happy,"  and  they  valk  to- 
gether. 

They  promenade  under  an  arbre ;  un  arbre  viz  ze  pretty  appel  on 
it ;  ze  pretty  appel  viz  ze  red  streak. 

Monsieur  le  Serpent  he  sit  up  in  ze  arbre.  He  'ave  pretty  mask 
all  over  hees  face — look  like  elegant  gentilhomme. 

Madame  Eef  she  see  Monsieur  le  Serpent  viz  ze  pretty  mask  and 
ze  appel  viz  ze  red  streak,  and  she  ees  very  much  attract. 

Monsieur  le  Serpent  he  say,  "  Madame  Eef,  shall  I  'ave  ze  plaisair 
for  peek  you  un  appel  ?  " 

Madame  Eef  she  reach  out  her  hand  for  take  ze  appel. 

Monsieur  Adam  he  say  :  "  Hola  !  hola  !  voila  !  Vat  you  do,  eh  ? 
Do  you  not  know  ees  prohibit  ?    You  must  not  touch  ze  appel !     If 


196  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.      ' 

you  eat  ze  appel  you  shall  become  like  un  Dieu — you  shall  know  . 
good  from  ze  evil !  " 

Monsieur  le  Serpent  he  take  un  pinch  of  snuff.  He  say  :  "  Moi 
sieur  Adam,  ees  prohibit  for, you.  If  you  eat  ze  appel  you  shr 
become  like  un  Dieu — you  shall  know  ze  good  from  ze  evil.  B: 
Madame  Ke( — Madame  Eef — she  cannot  become  more  of  a  godde; 
zan  she  ees  now." 

And  zat  finish  Madame  Eef. 


THEY   DON'T  AGREE. 


Q] 


WHAT    HE    THINKS    OF    HER  : 

'HE'S  lovely  !     Her  eyes  are  as  blue  as 

0  The  dear  little  flower  that  shone 

In  the  grass  at  the  end  of  the  summer — 

What  its  name  is  I  never  have  known ; 
And  her  hair's  quite  unique  in  this  age  of 

The  fluffy,  with  curls  bright  and  crisp ; 
And  her  voice  —  why,  it's  simply  delicious 

To  hear  her  sweet  infantile  lisp  ; 
And  her  blush  is  divine  ;   and  her  smile  is 

So  artless  that  really  she  seems 
To  me  like  the  angelic  maidens 

That  sometimes  we  meet  in  our  dreams. 

WHAT    HIS    SISTER    THINKS  : 

1  declare  lean  see  nothing  in  her 
Short  ringlets,  like  coils  of  red  wire, 

Or  the  smile  she's  eternally  wearing 
Or  her  baby  blue  eyes,  to  admire ; 

And  her  lisp,  how  absurdly  it  strikes  me 
'Twould  be  useless  to  try  to  express, 


Doir, 

■  Mb 
*l.vou 
■e  evil. 

'Hi  sad 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

But  if  /in  that  way  were  afflicted 
I'd  shun  every  word  with  an  "  S  ;  " 

And  in  spite  of  her  innocent  blushes 
And  dimples  she  can't  deceive  me, 

For  I1  know  her  to  be  just  as  artful 
As  any  young  woman  could  be. 


197 


OUT  AT  SEA. 


J.  S.   Fletcher. 


NOW  that  I  am  dying,  mate,  so  fetch  the  Bible  here, 
vVhat's  laid  unopened  in  the  chest  for  five-and-twenty  year; 

bring  a  light  along  of  you,  and  read  a  bit  to  me ; 
(have  n't  heard  a  word  of  it  since  first  I  came  to  sea. 

five-  and-twenty  year,  lad,  since  she  went  to  her  rest 
Ifo  put  that  there  old  Bible  at  the  bottom  of  my  chest; 
•  1  I  can  well  remember  the  words  she  says  to  me : 
ow,  don't  forget  to  read  it,  Tom,  when  you  get  out  to  sea." 

j;d  I  never  thought  about  it,  mate,  for  it  clean  slipped   from  my 
head ; 

t  when  1  come  from  my  first  voyage,  the  dear  old  girl  was  dead. 

id  the  neighbors  told  me,  while  I  stood  still  as  still  can  be, 

iat  she  prayed  for  me  and  blessed  me,  as  was  just  gone  out  to  sea# 

nd  then  I  shipped  again,  mate,  and  forgot  the  Bible  there, 
or  I  never  gave  a  thought  to  it,  a-sailing  everywhere  ; 
,;  now  that  I  am  dying  you  can  read  a  bit  to  me, 
lS  seems  to  think  about  it,  now  I'm  ill  and  down  at  sea. 

•id  find  a  little  prayer,  lad,  and  say  it  up  right  loud,  4 

that  the  Lord  can  hear  it  if  it  finds  Him  in  a  crowd. 


i98  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

I  can  scarce  hear  what  you're  saying  for  the  wind  that  howb  to  lee; 
But  the  Lord  '11  hear  above  it  all,  for  He's  been  out  at  sea. 

It's  set  in  very  dark,  mate,  and  I  think  I'll  say  good-night, 

But   stop  —  look  there  !  why,  mate,  why,  Bill,  the  cabin's  turning 

light ; 
And  the  dear  old  mother's  standing  there  as  gave  the  book  to  me  ! 
All  right ;  I'm  coming  !    Bill,  good-bye  !     My  soul's  going  out  to  sea. 


MRS.   PIPER. 


Marian  Douglas 


MRS.  Piper  was  a  widow —  "  Oh,  dear  me  ! 
This  world  is  not  at  all,"  she  said,  "  the  place  it  used  to  be 
Now  my  poor  husband,  he  was  such  a  good  man  to  provide  — 
I  never  had  the  leastest  care  of  anything  outside  ! 
But  now, 

Why,  there's  the  cow, 

A  constant  care,  and  Brindle's  calf  I  used  to  feed  when  small, 
And  those  two  Ayrshire  heifers  that  we  purchased  in  the  fall  — 
Oh,  dear ! 

My  husband  sleeping  in  the  grave,  it's  gloomy  being  here  ! 
The  oxen  Mr.  Piper  broke,  and  four  steers  two  year  old, 
The  blind  mare  and  the  little  colt,  they  all  wait  to  be  sold  ! 
For  how  am  I  to  keep  'em  now  ?  and  yet  how  shall  I  sell  ?  ' 

And  what's  the  price  they  ought  to  bring,  how  can  a  woman  tell  ? 
Now  Jacob  Smith,  he  called  last  night,  and  staid  till  nine  o'clock, 
And  talked  and  talked,  and  talked  and  talked,  and  tried  to  buy  my  stock 
He  said  he'd  pay  a  higher  price  than  any  man  in  town ; 
He'd  give  his  note,  or,  if  I  chose,  he'd  pay  the  money  down. 
But,  there  ! 
To  let  him  take  those  creeturs  off,  I  really  do  not  dare ! 


ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES.  199 

J?Or^'S  a  lying  world,  and  men  are  slippery  things  at  best; 
My  poor  dear  husband  in  the  ground,  he  wasn't  like  the  rest ! 
But  Jacob  Smith's  a  different  case ;  if  1  would  let  him,  now, 
^erhaps  he'd  wrong  me  on  the  horse,  or  cheat  me  on  the  cow ; 
\.nd  so 
:  do  not  dare  to  trust  him,  and  I  mean  to  answer  '  No.' " 

Jvtrs.  Piper  was  a  widow  —  "  Oh,  dear  me  ! 
\  single  woman  with  a  farm  must  fight  her  way,"  said  she. 
'  Of  everything  about  the  land  my  huoband  always  knew ; 
never  felt,  when  he  was  here,  I'd  anything  to  do ; 
But  no*, 

/Vhat  fields  to  plow, 

\.nd  how  much  hay  I  ought  to  cut,  and  just  what  crops  to  sow, 
\nd  what  to  tell  the  hired  men,  how  can  a  woman  know  ? 
Dh,  dear  ! 

•Vith  no  strong  arm  to  lean  upon,  it's  lonesome  being  here  ! 
Vow  Jacob  Smith,  the  other  night,  he  called  on  me  again, 
\nd  talked  and  talked,  and  talked  and  talked,  and  staid  till  after  ten ; 
rle  said  he'd  like  to  take  my  farm,  to  buy  it  or  to  lease  — 
[  do  declare,  I  wish  that  man  would  give  me  any  peace  ! 
For,  there  ! 

To  trust  him  with  my  real  estate  I  truly  do  not  dare ; 
For,  if  he  buys  it,  on  the  price  he'll  cheat  me  underhand ; 
\nd,  if  he  leases  it,  I  know  he  will  run  out  the  land ; 
\nd,  if  he  takes  it  at  the  halves,  both  halves  he'll  strike  for  then. 
tt's  risky  work  when  women  folk  have  dealings  with  the  men ! 
\nd  so 
f  do  not  dare  to  trust  him,  and  I  mean  to  answer  '  No.'  " 


*'< 


Mrs.  Piper  was  a  widow  —  "  Oh  dear  me  ! 

let  I  have  still  some  mercies  left ;  I  won't  complain,"  said  she. 

My  poor,  dear  husband  knows,  I  trust,  a  better  world  than  this ; 
Tvvere  sinful  selfishness  in  me  to  grudge  him  heaven's  bliss ! 
>o  now, 
>  ought  to  bow 


2oo  ELOCUTIONARY  STUDIES. 

Submissively  to  what  is  sent  —  not  murmur  and  repine; 

The  hand  that  sends  our  trials  has,  in  all,  some  good  design. 

Oh,  dear ! 

If  we  knew  all,  we  might  not  want  our  buried  lost  ones  here  ! 

And  Jacob  Smith,  he  called  last  night,  but  it  was  not  to  see 

About  the  cattle  or  the  farm,  but  this  time  it  was  me ! 

He  said  he  prized  me  very  high,  and  wished  I'd  be  his  wife, 

And  if  I  did  not  he  should  lead  a  most  unhappy  life. 

He  did  not  have  a  selfish  thought,  but  gladly,  for  my  sake, 

The  care  of  all  my  stock  and  farm  he  would  consent  to  take- 

And,  there  ! 

To  slight  so  plain  a  Providence  I  really  do  not  dare  ! 

He'll  take  the  cattle  off  my  mind,  he'll  carry  on  the  farm  — 

I  haven't  since  my  husband  died  had  such  a  sense  of  calm  ! 

I  think  the  man  was  sent  to  me  —  a  poor  lone  woman  must, 

In  such  a  world  as  this,  I  feel,  have  some  one  she  can  trust ; 

And  so 

I  do  not  feel  it  would  be  right  for  me  to  answer  <  No.5 "   . 


